


BOYISH

by writeretire



Category: IT (1990), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, But also, Dark Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Emotional Abuse, F/M, Fighting, Growing Up, Highschool AU, Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Mentions of Grooming, Mutual Pining, No Communication, Pennywise happened, Pining, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sad, Shy Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, Tension, Top Richie Tozier, Underage Drinking, all losers are 18, be warned, grunge!Richie, richie is kind of a dick, slowburn, slowburn-ish, sonia is a bitch, this is my first fic, underage drug taking, who's also in a band
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26699959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeretire/pseuds/writeretire
Summary: Eddie was tired of being the "cute" one with no experience. Though the losers didn't know he was a virgin, he himself knew. And everyone else at school thought of him as one, too. It had become a burden. He needed to change that.---Eddie tries to gain some "life experience", while also keeping it a secret from his best friend. Who he's been in love with for years.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Stanley Uris/Patty
Comments: 47
Kudos: 237





	1. turn around

**Author's Note:**

> I never laughed at your stupid jokes  
> So why do I always seems to choke  
> If all I want is to put you down  
> Why can't I turn around  
> Turn Around//SadGirl  
> ***  
> chapter one!!! not really sure how ao3 works yet, literally got it today lol. remember, they're all eighteen!!! I'm eighteen, too. This is alos my first fanfic written ever, so. Just know that.
> 
> writeretire on tumblr! Come say hi!

"I'm going to suck a boy's dick tonight."

Stan, Bill, and Mike glanced up at Eddie. He'd knocked his chair over as he stood and slammed his hands down on the table, and the nearly empty cans of smuggled Coke were still shaking when Eddie finished his abrupt statement.

The three boys looked at each other, their faces set in an expression Eddie couldn't decipher. He cleared his throat, and checked over his shoulder at the empty library, before he stooped to pick up his chair.

He gingerly sat back down, picked up his pencil, and began scribbling down math equations. He hunched his shoulders, and stared intently at his paper to ignore the flush of his face. If they didn't have anything to say, then neither did Eddie. He just wanted to get it off his chest.

Still, his cheeks burned. "Okay, what the fuck?" Stanley exclaimed, his voice echoing along the bookshelves. Eddie flinched. He pressed his pencil so roughly into his paper that the tipped snapped off, and he sighed. Eddie dropped his face into his hands.

"Who is it?" Mike asked, and Eddie mumbled into his hands.

"Wes Rite."

Bill frowned. "Never heard of him. What grade is he in?"

Eddie kept his face in his hands, trying to hide the burning red of his skin. "Sophomore." Though he couldn't see them, he knew their faces had contorted in disgust. They were all seniors, over 18 by now. So, Eddie continued to clear the air. He cleared his throat, then shifted in his seat. "In college."

Bill choked on his sip of soda. "You're fucking joking." Eddie shook his head, and Mike pinched the bridge of his nose while Stan tipped his head back in a laugh. Eddie bit back his own smile as he pulled his hands away from his face.

"Who else knows about this?" Mike questioned, leaning forward. Eddie shrugged.

"You guys, me, Wes." There was a pause as the three of them stared at him expectantly. "God?" Eddie finished lamely. Their chairs creaked as they leaned back.

"Does Bev know?" Bill started, but then his eyes widened slightly as a realization came over him. He leaned forward, then lowered his voice. "Does Richie know?"

Eddie huffed. Everyone always expected Richie to know every single thing about him, it was fucking annoying. He pulled his bottom teeth between his lip and looked down at his hands in his lap. His skin flushed, and he gave a tiny shake of his head. "No. You know how he gets."

And they did. Freshman year, Eddie partnered with a boy named Zach for a project worth 60% of their grade. They spent late nights at the library, weekends at Zach's house, and afternoons at the school. He barely saw the losers for an entire two week period, which had been the longest stretch of time they'd ever gone without each other. 

Eddie figured it'd be fine, they'd hardly even notice he was gone, and didn't think about it.

Plus, he liked Zach. At first, just platonically. He was funny and sweet, he didn't ruthlessly tease Eddie or call him humiliating names like the other kids at school did. They laughed a lot, and part of the reason they spent so long at the library was because they'd abandon their project to talk about their favorite songs, new tv shows or movies, or really anything in general.

Eddie took pride in the fact he'd made a new friend. He didn't want to ruin it in any way.

The night they'd finally finished their project, they walked home together. Their arms kept brushing as they talked, and Eddie tried not to read into it, but his cheeks still burned. He'd wondered if it was possible Zach could like him in a romantic way, but decided against it. No one had ever felt that way about him before, and he doubted anyone ever would.

They stopped outside Eddie's house, and when Eddie opened his mouth the say goodbye, Zach leaned down and kissed him.

It was just a peck, couldn't have lasted for more than two seconds. But it made Eddie's toes curl, and an unfamiliar, pleasant warmth spread throughout his chest. Zach pulled back with a smile. "Goodnight, Eddie." He jammed his hands in his pockets and turned, leaving Eddie stunned and ecstatic on the sidewalk.

Richie's going to blow his shit, was his first thought. No more being teased about being the only loser who hadn't gotten their first kiss.

"Eduardo!" Richie called when Eddie entered the clubhouse. Eddie staggered back as two arms wrapped around him, and tugged him forward. His nose knocked into Richie's chest.

"Get the fuck off me." Eddie struggled against him, and brought his hands up to push at his shoulders. Richie just tightened his arms, and rested his chin on top of Eddie's head.

"Was beginning to think you hated me. Would've made family dinners with your mom and I very awkward." He gripped Eddie's shoulders, and pulled him back. He stared down at Eddie with a grin, his eyes scanning every inch of Eddie's freckled face. His fingers ruffled Eddie's curls, and Eddie huffed.

"Not fucking funny, dickwad. Are you done?" He didn't wait for an answer, grateful Richie let him go when he tugged away from his hands. He hated when Richie stared at him like that.

The rest of the loser's looked up at him, smiling. "We missed you, Eddie," Bev nudged his shoulders with her own. "Richie got bored," she murmured in his ear. "Never leave us again. I can't take any more of it."

Eddie opened his lips to reply, when two arms wrapped around his waist. He sighed, and leaned his back to Richie's chest as he sat between his legs. He was used to the constant touching, the feeling of Richie's hair brushing his cheek as Richie rested his chin on Eddie's shoulder.

"Did you get the project done?" Stan asked, staring at his sketch pad, his fingers black from his drawing pencils.

"Yeah, thank god. Fucking hate Ms. Carlson. Who the fuck makes a project worth 60% of your final grade?" Richie's hands slipped to the top of his thighs, where his shorts had ridden up. He pinched the tan skin, and Eddie winced in discomfort before grabbing Richie's wrists and pulling them away from his legs. They found their way back immediately.

Richie's blunt nails scratched against his skin, and Eddie tried to ignore it as Bill talked about the drama on the baseball team. Richie's lips found the shell of Eddie's ear. "I missed you," he mumbled, and wrapped both arms around Eddie's waist, almost in a hug.

"Well, I didn't miss you." Eddie turned to look at his friend. He said his cruel words with a smile, and Richie grinned, too. However, their noses were only a centimeter apart. The feeling of Zach's lips against his own flashed through his mind, and something odd settled in his stomach. Something like guilt.

He looked away, and turned back to the group. He met Ben's eyes. Ben raised his eyebrows, and Eddie ducked his head with pink cheeks.

Richie's hands fell away, they dug into the floor behind him. "Did you like Zach?" Bill asked him, and Eddie perked.

"Literally the nicest guy ever. Sorry Ben, he stole your title." Eddie winked at Ben.

"Wait," Richie straightened behind Eddie. "Who's Zach?"

"My partner for the project." Eddie replied shortly. "He's on the baseball team, right?" Bill nodded.

"He's good. Probably one of the best. Maybe this'll finally get you to come to some of the games." Mike said with a grin, and Eddie shrugged.

"I do love sports," Eddie said as Bill laughed. He could feel Richie shift behind him, his fingers dug into the bones in Eddie's hips.

"Do you like him?" Bev asked.

"Yeah, I mean we're friends."

"No, I mean—"

"She means do you want to fuck him." Richie spoke up. "Or really I should say, do you want him to fuck you. We all know how you are, Eds." Eddie frowned at the mean edge in Richie's voice.

"First of all, jackass, don't call me Eds. And second of all, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Of course you don't know what I meant." Richie brought a hand up to lay the top of Eddie's hand, and Eddie almost bit it off. "You're a sweet little virgin who hasn't even found someone who wants to kiss you. It's okay, Eds, there are plenty of jobs in the church for celibates."

Eddie was on his feet in a millisecond. Richie tilted his face back to look up at him. His lips were spread in a cocky grin, his eyes dark behind his glasses. They trailed down Eddie's legs, before he snapped them back to Eddie's face.

"Actually, you piece of shit, you can't say that anymore."

Richie scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "Can't say what?"

"That I'm a virgin." Eddie knew he should've told the truth. But he was so fucking angry, and embarrassed, he wanted to hit Richie right where he knew it would hurt.

And he did. Richie's smile fell the second the words slipped past Eddie's lips, the arrogant flush of his face drained into pale white. His lips parted, and his eyes widened. Eddie smirked at the devastation on his face, satisfied he just took away Richie's best insult.

"No fucking way," Stan blurted. Eddie had forgotten about the rest of the losers, who were all staring up at him with equally shocked expressions.

"Uh—yeah." Eddie stammered, his confidence fading quickly. He really hadn't thought this through. 

"Well, how was it?" Mike questioned, and Eddie shifted on his feet. He sat back on the ground, this time just next to Richie, who was still frozen.

"It was fine." Eddie couldn't give any concrete details, because he hadn't lost his virginity, but he knew Mike would respect his privacy.

"Just fine?"

"I don't kiss and tell."

Richie jumped to his feet, and sent a cascade of rocks skittering across the floor. Eddie startled, and watched as Richie scrambled around the clubhouse. He seemed to be looking for something, and eventually tugged his jacket out from under the hammock. 

His cheeks were red, and his chest heaved. Eddie could see the shake of his hands from across the clubhouse. "I just remembered that I, um, I...uh," he stammered. He looked at Eddie, and took a shuddering breath before he shrugged on his jacket.

Eddie met his gaze in confusion. Why the fuck was he being so weird? He figured out of everyone, Richie would care the least about his sexuality. Maybe I was wrong. The thought chewed at him as Richie backed towards the ladder.

"Forgot my mom needs help with her, uh, mom shit. I have to go." Then he was gone. Eddie stared at the empty space where he once stood. Beverly sighed, then pushed herself to her feet. She dusted her hands off on her skirt, then started to make her way out.

"I'm gonna go after him. Figure out why he's acting like a crackwhore." She stopped. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with you. Bye Eddie, it's good to see you again." Then she was gone, too.

He stopped at Zach's house before he rode home that night, he had to tell Zach what happened, even if it costed them their friendship. He expected Zach to yell, break something, but instead he just tipped his head back and laughed. "Okay, Eddie. I'll cover for you." And that was that. Everything was fine. They were still friends.

Except everything wasn't fine. When he saw Zach the next day, he gasped. He had a split lip, and several purple bruises decorating his face. "What the hell happened to you?" Eddie asked, eyes wide as he scanned Zach's face.

"You didn't tell me you had a fucking boyfriend, or bodyguard, or whatever the fuck he is to you." He hissed, and Eddie shook his head in confusion.

"I don't have any of those things. Who did this to you?" Zach rolled his eyes at Eddie's question.

"Like you don't know."

"I don't," Eddie urged. And though he had a pretty good guess, he questioned again. "Who did this?"

And that's how he ended up skipping third period, and waiting under the bleachers, where he knew Richie liked to smoke. He tapped his foot against the grass, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"You let someone put their dick in you, and now you're skipping class. Who the fuck are you?" He heard a voice ask. He whirled around, and faced a tired, bruised Richie. Eddie glowered. "You gonna start smoking weed with Bev and me now, too?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Eddie's voice echoed around the bleachers, and Richie just sighed in response. He dropped his backpack to the ground, and took a seat as he dug out his package of cigarettes. His nonchalance made Eddie stomp his foot in the grass, then cross his arms in front of his chest as Richie rummaged through his backpack.

"You want one?" He extended the pack towards Eddie, who's chest heaved up and down.

"No, I don't want to fucking smoke, Richie. Do you have any idea how disgusting that is?" He raked a hand through his hair, and shut his eyes in frustration.

"How could I now? You're always bitching at me about it." The lighter clicked, and Richie inhaled.

"Why did you punch Zach?" Eddie kept his voice steady, knowing him yelling would only set Richie off. Richie loved a good argument.

Richie pulled the cigarette away from his lips. "Why did you let him fuck you?" His voice almost broke, and Eddie wasn't prepared for the amount of betrayal laced in his tone.

Eddie hated himself for the relief he felt, knowing if Richie knew he'd lied about losing his virginity, he'd never hear the end of it. He mentally thanked Zach for holding up.

"Why do you care so much? I know you loved to tease me about it, but there are plenty of other things to make fun of me for. It's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal," Richie snapped, and Eddie's eyes widened. Richie's jaw clenched, and the shadows amplified his dark expression. His cheeks hollowed as he took another drag, then shook his head. His curls fell into his eyes. "You don't— you just—you can't—" He cut himself off with a sigh, and slid his glasses off his face. With his free hand, he rubbed at his eyes. "I don't know why I punched him, okay?" He raised his hands defensively, taking another drag. Eddie could see his fingers tremble. "I don't know why. I was just so fucking mad."

Eddie bit his lip, and looked at his feet. They fell into silence, just the sound of Richie breathing in smoke and then blowing it out. Eddie kept his gaze on his shoes as he spoke.

"You're my best friend, Rich. I think you're a fucking idiot, but you're my best friend." He wasn't sure what his point was, or if he had any at all. He just kept talking. "And I'm fine. I'm not hurt, he didn't take advantage of me in any way, there's nothing to be worried or mad about." He glanced back up at his friend, who let his bruised hands rest against his bent knees. The cigarette hung loosely in Richie's dingers, the embers forgotten as the boy stared up at Eddie with a locked jaw.

The tension mounted between them. Eddie found it hard to breathe, and blamed it on the second hand smoke, though his subconscious knew there was a deeper issue causing this discomfort. He ignored that part of his brain.

"You're gonna make me apologize to him, aren't you?" Richie mumbled, picking at the rip in his jeans with his fingers. His knuckles were split.

Eddie grinned. "Of course I am. Do you know me at all?" He joked, trying to lighten the mood. Richie didn't smile.

"I know you better than anyone, Eddie." He said seriously, leaning his head back as he shut his eyes. Eddie's eyes widened at the use of his full name. Finally, he pulled his eyes away from his friend's neck and the sharp contour of his jaw, and turned back to look at the school. "Don't ever spend that much time away from me again." Richie added. 

Eddie averted his gaze, and blushed as he nodded his head. He didn't really understand the urgency in Richie's tone, but the words made him feel good, wanted, so he didn't question it.

After Richie apologized to Zach, reciting the script Eddie gave him, they didn't talk about it. Eddie didn't really kiss anyone, or go near another boy again. The same could not be said for Richie. And now he there was a small chance he was about to actually lose his virginity.

Eddie shook the memory away, then snapped his neck up to look at his friends with raised eyebrows. "And none of you can fucking tell him. You can't tell Ben, either. Cause he'll tell Bev, who'll tell Rich. Just..." He paused. and took a deep breath. "Please. This needs to stay between us."

They looked at each other again before Mike nodded. "Of course, Eddie. We won't tell a soul." 

"But what should we tell the cops wen he ends up going all Jeffery Dahmer on you?" Stan quizzed, nudging Eddie's shoulder. Eddie rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips tugged up.

He was relieved. He wondered if they'd be mad at him, or disgusted. He didn't want them to try and talk him out of going, because he desperately wanted to do this. He'd never been wanted in a sexual capacity.

People at school just liked him because he was quiet, and they could talk over him without feeling guilty about it. And it's not like he was the first one in the group to give (or receive) a blowjob.

He'd found Stan's condoms a few months ago, and heard about all of Bill's hookups. He'd ran into one of Richie's pastimes when he was sneaking into his bedroom, and even in the dim streetlight he could see the marks Richie had left on this poor hookup.

He was tired of being the "cute" one with no experience. Though the losers didn't know he was a virgin, he himself knew. And everyone else thought of him as one, too. It had become a burden. He needed to change that.

They resumed studying, but Eddie didn't retain anything. His leg bounced under the table, and he even found himself chewing his fingernails as he thought about Wes.

Normally, he'd ask Bev about giving a blowjob. She'd smile, and take a drag of her cigarette before telling him all the tips she's learned. How to control your gag reflex, what feels good, what to say after. But he couldn't, and he resented the fact that he was going into this blind.

"So, does this mean you don't like Richie anymore?" Bill asked, and Eddie sunk low in his chair. 

"It's never going to happen." He ignored the look the three of them shared over the table. 

"You don't know that," Mike said, but Eddie did know it. Though Richie still hung out with the losers, he was by no means unpopular. Every Saturday he and his band played a show in the neighboring town, and when Eddie could sneak out and go watch, he always saw him leave with some hot girl or boy, and they disappeared into his car for an hour before rejoining the group with disheveled clothes and swollen lips. 

School was no better. While he was loud, and annoying, none of that mattered because his cheeks had hollowed, and his jawline sharpened. Everywhere he went, people hung on his every word. People way cooler, funnier, smarter, and prettier than Eddie.

Sophomore year, he realized he might harbor some feelings for his best friend, but soon discovered it was hopeless. He needed to move on. Which is exactly what he told his friends, who shot him a small look of disbelief, but didn't give him shit about it. Thankfully. 

When the clock hit seven, Eddie shoves his books into his bag. "Well, um," he cleared his throat. "I gotta go." He slung his bag over his shoulder, ignoring the stares of his friends. "I guess I'll see you Monday."

"Hey Eddie," Bill caught his attention, and Eddie paused his rushed movements to look at him. His hands shook as he waited for Bill to speak, waiting for the hurtful words to pass his lips.

But Bill just smiled up at him as he brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Be safe. And remember to have fun." Bill knew his friend, and he could practically see waves of nervous energy coming off him.

Eddie's shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. "Thanks." As he left, he could hear Stan shout something about teeth after him.

Eddie grinned to himself, staring down at his feet as he pushed the library doors open. He hopped down the steps two at a time, and squinted at the sun on the horizon, the sky a hazy shade of gold.

His feet skidded to a stop when he heard someone shout "Eds!" from the end of the street. His heart let out a pained thud in his chest. He racked his brain, trying to pinpoint a moment where Stan, Mike, or Bill could've left the table and called him.

He knows, Eddie swore to himself as he turned in his heel. He always fucking knows.

He could see Richie stomping out a cigarette with his shoe as he leaned against his car. The sun glinted off his dark curls, which brushed the rim of his glasses as they slid down his nose. Eddie swallowed, before approaching him.

"What are you doing here?" He asked as he dodged Richie's hands as they grabbed for his waist. Richie's eyes slid over him, and they caught on the edge of his shorts like they always did. He flicked his gaze back up to meet Eddie's.

"You told me you were studying at the library tonight, remember?" And Eddie did remember. He mentioned it, fleetingly. An off hand comment. He frowned, and wondered how he even remembered such a small detail.

"You should've come earlier. You could've studied with us." Richie tipped his head back in a laugh, and Eddie blushed as his eyes lingered on his friend's jaw.

"You know I don't need to study." He jerked his head towards his car. "Come on, we can go back to mine. My parents aren't home." He twirled his keys on his finger, and Eddie bristled.

He sucked in a deep breath of air, and averted his gaze. He stared at Richie's beat up converse, unable to look him in the eye. His stare had been too much for Eddie these days. "Actually, I can't. My mom, you know how she is."

Richie stopped twirling his keys. "You haven't let your mom stop you from hanging out for months." It wasn't accusatory, more just a statement. A joke. Still, Eddie couldn't bring himself to look at him.

"I'm sorry, really wish I could. Maybe tomorrow night? She's lenient on Friday's." He mustered up the courage to meet Richie's gaze, which turned out to be a mistake.

Richie's smile slid into a frown, his eyebrows knit together as he stared Eddie down. He looked him over, and Eddie felt oddly intimidated in a way he never had before. He took a step back. "See ya," he mumbled before turning to walk away.

He only took a few steps before Richie's fingers wrapped around the back of Eddie's shirt. He yanked him back, and Eddie's feet stumbled as he almost fell on his ass. He gasped, his collar choking the breath out of him.

Richie started talking, using his hold on Eddie's shoulders to spin him around. "What the fuck is going on with you? Are you mad at me or something?"

"What? No—" Eddie shook his head, and tried to back out of Richie's grip, but he just tightened his hold on his arms and kept speaking.

"Because whatever I did, I'm sorry-"

"I'm not mad I just-"

"Whatever I said, it was a joke. I didn't mean it. Maybe. Most likely. Prob-"

"I'm not fucking mad at you!" Eddie snapped, and brought his hands up. I'm just on edge because I'm going to have my first incredibly sexual experience ever and it's not going to be with you, is what he wanted to say.

But he bit his tongue instead, then forcibly pushed Richie's grip off of him, his skin too hot. He was probably going to pass out. Richie's hands fell to his sides, the veins in his arms protruding when he curled his fingers into fists. 

Eddie swallowed, his heart letting out another pained thump as he mustered a lie, and dragged his eyes back to the road beneath his feet. "I just can't tonight. I'm sorry. I'll see you tomorrow at the clubhouse."

Richie's jaw clenched, and he raked a hand through his hair. He shut his eyes, and sighed. "Yeah, when everyone else is there. We haven't been alone since last Sunday, I miss you, Eds. What about tomorrow night? Or are you busy then, too?" He crossed his arms, and this time, his tone was accusatory. Eddie narrowed his eyes for a moment, opened his mouth to say something equally as catty, but thought better of it.

"Like I said, I'll see you tomorrow. And the day after that. And also the day after that. There's nothing to worry about." He gave his best friend a lighthearted smile, hoping it would ease some of the tension that stood between them.

Though his shoulders were still slumped, Richie's lips quirked as he scanned Eddie's face. He slid his hands up Eddie's arms, which sent a chill down his spine before Richie ruffled his fingers in Eddie's hair. "Don't know what I'm gonna do tonight without you, Eds. Might die without my nightly dose of vitamin E."

Eddie rolled his eyes, trying to duck out of his grip. "Fuck off." Richie caught him, and tugged on Eddie's roots. Eddie sucked in a breath at the slight pain, and his face flushed. His watch beeped. He checked the time, and realized he had to go. Richie's hands fell away as Eddie stepped back. "Bye, Rich."

Richie swallowed thickly, mumbling a goodbye as he scratched at the back of his neck. "You want a ride home? Maybe my ten inch dick can help your mom-" Eddie made a noise of disgust, and wrinkled his nose as he rapidly shook his head.

"I take it back. I'm not talking to you until Monday." He turned on his heel, and began to walk away. Richie let him go this time, but continued to shout obscenities about his mother down the empty street. Eddie held up his middle fingers into the air, and thanked god Richie couldn't see the stupid smile on his face.  
—  
Eddie was the last one to the clubhouse the next day. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent, and his throat burned as he greeted everyone with a scratchy voice.

"Why the fuck do you sound so weird? Did you finally go through puberty?" Richie heckled as he made space for him in the hammock. Eddie ignored Mike's stare, and clambered in.

Richie slung an arm around his shoulders, and reopened the comic book. Eddie leaned back against his chest, and draped an arm over Richie's stomach as he followed along. They swayed in the hammock as their friends moved around them.

"Missed you last night," Richie hummed. "Had to get your mom to keep me company." 

"Shut the fuck up." Eddie rolled his eyes, but the sentiment behind Richie's words touched him. It felt good to know his dependency on their friendship wasn't as one sided as it felt. 

"I'm serious," Richie continued nonchalantly as he turned the page. "She doesn't give head half as good as you do." 

Eddie shot up in the hammock, and almost sent them toppling over. He swallowed, the flash of pain in his throat grounding him as memories of him on his knees last night flashed through his head at Richie's words. 

"Jesus Christ, Eds. Nearly fucking killed us both," Richie cursed as his hands fell to Eddie's hips. 

"Don't call me that," Eddie snapped. His words held an unfamiliar urgency to them. And any normal person would've back off, frightened by Eddie's malice as he glared at them. But Richie took it as a challenge, an experiment to see how far he could push someone before they snapped. It's like he just wanted to prove he could affect people, and get under their skin. 

"Call you what?" Richie cocked his head, the corners of his lips tilting up. Eddie's fingers curled at his sides, his cheeks flushing as he imagined himself smacking the smug look right off of his face. 

"You know what, asshole."

"Oh, you mean Eds?" Richie turned back to his comic book, looking bored with the conversation. Eddie grit his teeth. He hated when Richie started an argument, and then chose to check out of it. Like he couldn't care less. "That's your name, isn't it?" 

"No," Eddie seethed. "It's not." 

Richie hummed. "Weird. Could've sworn it was." He looked back up at Eddie. "Eddie spaghetti, then. Is that right?" 

"No." 

"Eddie confetti." 

"Shut up." 

"Eddie the Yeti." 

"You're a cunt." Richie grinned, and reached for Eddie again. He swatted away his hands, and tried to distance himself as much as he could in the small space. They laughed at each other as their wrestling caused the hammock to sway dangerously from side to side, almost tipping over several times. 

"Eddie," Stan said, distracting him. This caused his defenses to cease, and allow Richie to wrap his arms around his waist, and tug him forward. Eddie's nose jammed into his chest, and he sighed as he squirmed to find a comfortable position on top of his friend. 

"Yeah?" Eddie turned to look at Stan, who stood over them. 

Don't you dare, he tried to tell Stan through his eyes. Don't tell him. Don't you fucking dare. 

"Can I talk to you outside for a minute?" Stan jammed his hands into his pockets, and Eddie opened his mouth to reply as Richie's arms tightened around him. 

"Sorry, Stan the Man. You'll have to wait, I've got Eds right now." Richie smiled down at him, and white hot guilt flashed through Eddie's mind. Maybe I should tell him, he briefly thought, but then forced the idea out of his head. He didn't return Richie's smile. Instead, he averted his gaze back to Stan. 

"Eddie, come on." Stan flicked his head towards the ladder, and took a few steps back from the hammock. 

"Fuck off Stan, like I said--" Richie started, but Eddie cut him off by swinging his legs over the edge. 

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Eddie said. 

"Wait, what? You're seriously choosing Stan over me right now?" Richie's eyes widened, and a hint of annoyance leaked into his tone. Eddie rolled his eyes. 

"Don't be so dramatic. We've got an assignment to talk about," Eddie tried, then failed, to push himself up against Richie's hold on him. He sighed. "I promise. Literally five minutes." Richie reluctantly let him go, but narrowed his eyes at Eddie as he slipped off of him. Eddie felt his stare on him the entire way out. 

Stan pulled him a safe distance away from the club house, where he knew they wouldn't be heard. They sat on a log. 

"So," he urged. "How did it go?" 

Eddie looked at his shoes as he drew pictures in the dirt with his toe. "It was fine." He shrugged. 

"You have to give me more details than that. Did he have a big dick? Was he nice? Did you fuck?" Stan fired of questions, and Eddie's cheeks burned as his shoulders tensed. 

"Oh my god, Stan. His dick was fine, big enough to make my throat hurt like a bitch. He was nice, but we...uh...we didn't really talk much." Stan's grin split his face at Eddie's statement. "And no, we didn't fuck." And then, because Eddie felt buried under the amount of secrets he kept, he decided to get one off of his chest. "Hey, do you remember Zach?" 

"Super hot baseball player that took your virginity freshman year? Yes, I remember him." 

"About that. I kind of...lied?" He said it like a question. When he looked back at Stan, the smirk had fallen of his face. His brows furrowed. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I'm a virgin." 

Stan tilted his head. "But you and Zach had sex. So, no you're not." 

"We never had sex." 

Stan's eyes widened. "What do you mean?" 

Eddie huffed, and pushed himself off the log. He paced in front of Stan. "I may have exaggerated our relationship. We kissed for literally two seconds, but that's it. And nothing happened between us after Richie beat his face in." 

"Because he took your virginity." Eddie remained silent after Stan's statement. Realization dawned on his friend's face. "Except he didn't." Eddie shook his head. Stan raked a hand through his hair. "Holy shit. So, all the other losers don't know?" 

Eddie shook his head again. "Just you, me, and Zach." He expected Stan to tease him, or start yelling, but he didn't. Instead, his shoulders started to shake with laughter. Eddie cracked a smile. 

"So you're telling me...holy shit, this is just too good." Eddie started to laugh along as Stan doubled over. For a few minutes, they were in hysterics over the ridiculousness of the situation. "And even Richie doesn't know?" 

This sobered Eddie up quickly. He cleared his throat, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "No. Another thing you can't tell him." 

Stan quieted. "I think you should tell him about Wes." Eddie frowned as he snapped his neck up to look at Stan, who met his gaze. "He's going to find out one way or another. Best if it comes from you." 

Eddie sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "I know. I know!" He kicked a rock. "But you know how he reacted when he thought Zach and I had sex. He clearly doesn't want to know about this other stuff." He sat next to Stan again, who looked at him pensively. 

"He cares about you. He's fucking annoying, but he cares about you. Maybe you just need to set some boundaries." 

Eddie paused. "You realize how dumb that sounded, right?" 

"Yeah, I heard it as I was saying it. Boundaries and Richie?" He scoffed, and Eddie laughed a little. They stared at each other. "I'm glad you had fun last night." He rested a comforting hand on Eddie's knee. Eddie smiled up at him, and parted his lips to say something, when he was interrupted. 

"Woah, what the fuck is going on here?" Eddie shut his eyes and sighed, turning to face Richie as he clambered out of the clubhouse. "Sorry, Stan. Did I just cockblock you?" He dusted the dirt off of his ripped jeans, and adjusted his glasses on his face as he grinned at the two of them. But his tone had an uneasy tilt to it, and his mocking smile didn't reach as far as it usually did. Eddie and Stan shared another look. 

Branches broke under Richie's boots as he made his way over to them. Eddie eyed his black jean jacket in his grip. "Are you leaving?" He asked, and Richie nodded. 

"Yeah, parents aren't home this weekend, remember?" He stopped in front of them. Eddie tilted his head back to look up at him. He nudged Eddie's foot with his own. "You ready to go?" Eddie nodded, and Stan's hand fell away from his knee as he stood. Richie took a small step back to give Eddie some space. 

"Bye, Stan." In his peripheral, he could see Richie roll his eyes and tilt his head back to the sky for a moment in exasperation. Eddie ignored the bite of annoyance that rippled through him at the action. 

"Bye, Eddie. See you later." Richie didn't wait for Eddie before he started walking towards the trail. Eddie pretended he didn't see Stan mouth "tell him" as he scrambled to catch up with Richie.


	2. crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold you here my loveliest friend  
> I love to watch you when you're trying on your clothes  
> And now you're all I think about when I'm alone  
> Can't wait to feel your love inside me now  
> Crush//Cigarettes After Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is over 8,000 words. it took me fucking ages. so excuse any errors lol. 
> 
> and holy shit, 300 people read the last chapter????!!!! which might not seem like much, but it's 300 more than I expected, so that's cool! Thank you to everyone who commented, left kudos, or bookmarked it. You definitely inspired me to keep writing this thing.  
> writeretire on tumblr! Come say hi!

Eddie leaned his face against the window of Richie's car, the cool glass a nice contrast to his burning face. The conversation with Stan kept ricocheting around his head.

tell him tell him tell him tell him

Eddie's not sure if he'd ever kept a secret from Richie before. He'd always been honest to a fault with him, never sparing any detail about his life. He knew he could tell him anything, and no matter how much Richie would tease him, he knew he still cared about him. And didn't judge him.

But for some unknown, uncomfortable reason, this was different.

"Can we stop at my house before we head to yours?" Eddie asked, and turned to look at Richie. He had his window down, one of his arms hanging out as a cigarette dangled between his fingers. His other hand loosely gripped the steering wheel, his thumb tapping against it to the beat of the song on the radio. The wind tousled his hair, and his curls brushed the top of the sunglasses he had put on over his prescription glasses. Eddie swallowed.

"Why?" Richie glanced at him, a slight frown on his face.

"I need to get my toothbrush and shit."

"Just use mine."

Eddie's face crinkled in response. "Why don't you just hit me with your car while you're at it? Or shoot me with your dad's gun? Maybe ask Bowers if you can use his knife, we can make it a party."

"Only if you invite your mom. She and I have unfinished business." Richie leaned forward to see around Eddie as the car rolled to a stop sign. Eddie sunk low in his seat.

"Of course."

"And by unfinished business, I mean we're going to fuck."

"Yes asshole, I figured that." Eddie snapped, and Richie smirked as he slightly shook his head.

"Now, Eds. Is that any way to talk to your future daddy?"

Eddie exaggerated his sigh, and let his head fall back against the headrest as he shut his eyes. God, why did he like this fucking punk? He opened his eyes when he felt the car slow to a stop. He blinked, and stared up at his house.

He bit his lip, kind of regretting asking Richie to stop here first. Yes, he needed his toothbrush, but the amount of stealth he'd have to use to sneak inside, and then back to Richie's car kept him glued to his seat.

"Go on, you wanted to stop here so badly." Richie nudged his friend's shoulder, his teasing voice peaked over the radio. Eddie's fingers trembled as he undid his seatbelt, and reached for the door handle. He tugged on it, but it didn't budge.

"The door's locked."

"Oh sorry," Richie sighed, but made no move to open the door. He brought his cigarette to his lips, and took a drag. Eddie stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"So unlock it." Richie breathed out a lungful of smoke as he stared at the center of the steering wheel, and Eddie bit down his anti-smoking speech as he waited.

"You're gonna come back, right? Like, you're not using this as an excuse to get caught, and then ditch me again. Are you?" Eddie's eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh my god, Richie. It was one night! And I didn't ditch you. I told you I wouldn't be there. I hate my mother, you know that. I don't want to get caught." Eddie tugged on the door handle again, and even tried to pick at the lock with his fingers. The air in the car turned thick.

But Eddie's answer seemed to be enough for Richie, because he slid a hand over and the lock clicked again. Before Eddie could fling the door open, Richie grabbed his wrist. "In and out, okay?" He looked down at Eddie with raised eyebrows, and Eddie nodded.

"In and out," he confirmed.

"Just like what I do with your mo--" Eddie swung the door open, and let it slam before he heard the tail end of Richie's statement.

He winced as his front door creaked, and prayed his mother wasn't sitting in the living room. But he could hear the TV immediately when he entered, and his chest deflated. He slipped off his shoes at the door so his footsteps would be quieter.

He practically slid past the opening of the living room, and thanked god she didn't see his flash of movement. He quietly mounted the stairs, and dashed down the homestretch of his hallway, before he shut himself in his bedroom.

He dumped the contents of his backpack on his bed, before stuffing pajamas inside. He shoved his shower products in, knowing Richie only used 3-in-1 shampoo. The thought of using it made his skin peel. He threw in his toothbrush, and slipped on a pair of new shoes before sliding his window open.

He shimmied down the tree, like he'd done several thousand times before, and bounded back to Richie's car. He started driving off before Eddie had even buckled himself in.

***  
"I shouldn't have let you watch that. Now you're going to have to sleep with the nightlight on."

Eddie rolled his eyes, and leaned forward to grab another piece of pizza from the box. They moved the coffee table, so they were sitting on the floor leaning back against the couch as they watched Nightmare on Elm Street. Richie blew his shit when he realized Eddie had never seen it.

Between boys in crop tops, and his knee brushing Richie's occasionally, Eddie was rather distracted. "It's not that scary, asshole."

The light of the TV glinted off of Richie's glasses, and his hair had gone from it's usual mess to an absolute disaster. Eddie wanted to bury his fingers in it and pull. He averted his gaze to the can of coke between his legs, fiddling with the metal tab.

"We'll watch Poltergeist tomorrow night. Unless you're too much of a little bitch, of course."

"Only if Poltergeist has Johnny Depp in it." Eddie took a bite of his pizza, and cringed as he watched fake blood spurt all over the screen. The sound of Richie fiddling with a wrapper paused, and in his peripheral he saw Richie hoist himself into a taller sitting position.

"Is he your type?"

Eddie frowned, and turned to look at him. "Isn't Johnny Depp everyone's type?" Richie rolled his eyes, and gave a slight shake of his head.

"I mean, sure. But like, if Johnny Depp showed up right now and asked to fuck, would you?" Eddie's eyes widened, and his lips parted at the abrupt question. But Richie didn't seem perturbed at all, in fact he seemed rather eager to learn the answer. Eddie glanced back at the screen, his cheeks heated.

"I'm not answering that."

"Oh come on, quit acting like such a virgin. What would you say?" He nudged Eddie in the ribs with his elbow, and Eddie sighed. He knew Richie wouldn't leave him alone.

"Depends. Would we have to fuck in your room? Because there's no way that's sanitary."

Richie snorted, and looked away. "Shut the fuck up. I don't know, where would be your ideal place to fuck someone?"

Right here, Eddie thought. But that just made his blush deepen, and he thanked god for the dim lighting in the room. Though Richie was probably still close enough to see the color of his face. He knew the fallout that would follow if he said that, so he just shrugged.

"I guess the clubhouse." That was definitely the wrong answer. Richie sat up so fast, and pulled away from the couch to lean over and look Eddie directly in the face.

"No fucking way, you little exhibitionist!"

Eddie's nose scrunched in confusion. "What the fuck is an extortionist?"

"Exhibitionist. You like to have sex in public."

"What!" Eddie screeched, and punched Richie in the shoulder. He laughed, and caught Eddie's wrist, then pulled him closer.

"You are! Holy shit, I did not think you'd ever fuck someone any place but a fully sterilized hospital room."

"First of all, it's the clubhouse, not just out in the middle of the grocery store. There's privacy!"

"Please tell me you didn't lose your virginity in the clubhouse. I'd never be able to go down there again."

Eddie swallowed, and averted his attention to delicately placing his can of coke on the discarded coffee table so it wouldn't spill. He hadn't told anyone any details of that night, since there really wasn't anything to tell, and he didn't want to get caught in a lie. So, he changed the subject.

"Don't act like you don't fuck Michelle down there." And shit, Eddie would've rather confessed to lying about his virginity than think about Richie's friend-with-benefits-who-he-says-isn't-his-girlfriend-but-acts-like-she-is.

Richie smile froze, and his hands slid off of Eddie's shoulders. Eddie shivered, a chill in his bones as Richie's fingertips left him. He sank back, and leaned his head against the couch cushion. "Nah," Richie sighed. He crawled on his knees back over to Eddie, and rested besides him. They both stared up at the ceiling, shoulders brushing, hands folded over their stomachs. "I only fuck her in her car. Sometimes the girl's locker rooms, after practice. And sometimes under the bleachers bef--"

"Okay!" Eddie snapped, and threw his hands in the air. "I get it! I don't want to know what you and her get up to."

And truly, he didn't. It kept him awake some nights. Bad nights where he stares at the ceiling in the dark of his room, and can't get his brain off of Richie. Bad nights where he replays a highlight reel of pinched cheeks, fingers on his thighs, Richie hovering over Eddie as he smiled down at him. "Eds, Eddie Spaghetti, Eduardo..." He heard each nickname rattled off his friend's tongue, which he desperately wanted jammed down his throat.

He imagined wrapping his fingers around Richie's decorative cross necklace, and pulling him close. Sealing their lips together, hands roaming up hips. His ring clad fingers would always slip between his thighs. Only, they weren't Eddie's thighs. They always turned into Michelle's.

Because Michelle got to know what it felt like to hook her finger around his necklace and kiss him deeply. She got to know what it felt like to have him on top of her, and not just to wrestle. She got to know what it felt like to be fucked by him, and Eddie didn't. Though he imagined, his brain could never quite get past the idea that it was just that. Imaginary.

"Oh, I get up alright." Richie joked, and Eddie shook his head, and forced a smile on his face. He swallowed the bile down, his stomach churned with hot, heady jealousy. They lapsed into silence, the sound of the movie screeched in the background. "I think she faked an orgasm." He said abruptly, and Eddie's eyes widened.

"Oh shit." That's all Eddie had to offer to that conversation. Please don't ask me for sex advice, please don't ask me for sex advice, Eddie thought to himself as another stretch of silence laid out between them. He felt Richie shrug.

"Yeah. She was moaning."

Eddie frowned. "That's unusual? You just stick your dick in her in silence?"

"No," Richie laughed. "Normally she moans. But like, these were porn star moans."

Eddie rolled his eyes, but that hot, heady feeling returned. "If this is just you bragging, I swear."

"I'm not! You know how unrealistic porn moans are?" When Eddie didn't answer, Richie gasped. "You've never watched porn before?"

"It's not exactly like I have a way to get it. Can you imagine what would happen if my mom knew I had gay porn?"

Richie laughed again, but a whole body shake. The kind that made Eddie laugh, too. "I'd pay so much fucking money to see that shit. God, her meltdown performance would win every Oscar." He paused, and Eddie's giggles carried over into the silence. "But anyways, it just felt weird, you know? I don't think she's ever faked it before. At least, not with me."

"Do you know why?" Eddie wanted to cut out his tongue as soon as he asked. He did not actually want to know why.

Richie's cheeks tinted pink, and Eddie sat up straighter. When Richie was blushing, some serious shit went down. Curiosity gripped Eddie, and forced him to scoot closer to his friend. He lowered his voice, as if there were people who would overhear. "You know I won't tell anyone, unless you want me to."

Richie stared up at Eddie. He couldn't see his eyes through the reflection on his glasses, but Eddie's focus was distracted by the way he pulled his lip between his teeth. "I know."

Every so often, the boys would have oddly emotionally charged moments like this. Eddie hated them. He viewed their friendship as an extra limb, vital to his survival. Sometimes, on nights like tonight where his self control withered, he wanted to cut it off. Nights where their relationship felt like an ocean to Eddie, and a piss stain to Richie.

Their faces were close. A few inches, a small amount of distance that could be easily closed. Eddie flicked his eyes back up to Richie's, a silent plead. Please kiss me, he tried to say. Please. Richie's lips parted.

"I'll just ask your mom, she always gives me the best sex advice."

The end credits of the movie started rolling.

Eddie sighed, and shoved away from him. "Fuck off, I was trying to be nice."

"If you want to be nice, you'd suck my dick."

Eddie's eyes widened, a flush rose to his cheeks. Okay, Eddie wanted to agree. His stomach turned at his friend's words. He'd spent many nights fantasizing about what his dick would feel like against his lips. How Richie would tug on his hair, the sounds he'd make.

"You know, because that's what your mom does for me, to make me feel better. You probably couldn't do it half as good as her, though." He stuttered, and Eddie's flicker of hope snuffed out. He groaned.

"Do you ever stop?" He leaned forward onto his knees, and crawled around in the glow of the TV to look for the remote. He scattered discarded bags of chips, candy wrappers, and two empty pizza boxes before finally wrapping his fingers around it. "Go turn on the light."

"Oh Eds, getting bossy, are you?" Richie teased as he stood. Eddie tried not to take in his height, and the way he towered over him. Richie stretched his arms, his shirt rising over his bellybutton. Eddie looked back at the remote in his hands, and clicked the TV off when the living room lights flicked on.

He tried to gather all the trash, but felt a tug on his shirt collar. "Come on Eds," Richie whined. "I'm tired. Let's go to bed, we can clean it up tomorrow."

Eddie glared up at him through his lashes. "It'll take five minutes. Just bring me the trash can from the kitchen." Richie tipped his head back in annoyance, shutting his eyes as he sighed. Eddie didn't look at the veins in his neck, or the way his Adam's Apple bobbed. He heard his socks slid against the floor as he trudged into the kitchen.

Eddie braced his hands on his bent knees, and took a deep breath to collect himself. I will not jump my best friend, he chanted that mantra in his head several times before he resumed his cleaning.

"Here, bitch." Richie slammed the trash can down next to Eddie, who ignored that statement, and began to shove the pizza boxes in. Richie fell back on the couch, legs spread, and seemed to watch Eddie's movements.

Eddie tried to block out the sound of Richie's foot tapping against the carpet, and the way it would be so easy to fit himself between his thighs. His skin burned, and he hated his face for flushing under his friend's scrutiny. With shaky hands, he finally picked up their mess, and stood. "Okay, lets go to bed."

Richie tilted his head back to look up at him, breathing a soft 'finally,' before he pushed himself off the couch. He slung an arm around Eddie, and pinched his cheek. "Been so long since we last slept together, babe." He winked.

Eddie's fatigued brain couldn't handle that, so he just focused on getting up the dark stairs without falling to his death. Which might've been a mercy at this point.

They stood side by side, brushing their teeth. Richie had tried several times to spit on Eddie, who dodged all of his attacks, and caught him when he tried to switch their toothbrushes.

They stumbled into his bedroom, and the springs of his bed screeched when Richie faceplanted onto his mattress. Eddie reached into his backpack for his pajamas, when his journal thudded to the floor.

Fuck. Shit. Bitch. Motherfucker. Son of a whore.

How did it get here? He hid it in his drawer, when he packed his clothes it probably got lumped in. Of course.

Eddie tried to shove it back in before Richie noticed it. He'd been trying to read it since he first saw Eddie writing in it.

But no such luck. A hand snatched it away. Eddie jumped, and reached for it. "Don't fucking touch that!"

Richie spread it open. "Dear diary, today I fantasized about sitting on Richie Tozier's big dick..." Eddie lunged on top of him, and tried to yank it from his grip. But Richie just put on his best-most-annoying shit eating grin, and pulled it away. "Quiet Eds, I'm trying to read."

Eddie threw his leg over his hip, and his chest hovered over Richie's face as he reached again for his book. "First of all, asshat, it's a journal. Not a diary." Richie rolled his eyes, but his smile widened as he kept the book out of Eddie's grip. He watched him struggle with amusement, his toned arms easily keeping it out of Eddie's grasp.

His face burned, humiliated. If Richie ever read it, he would know everything. And he would never talk to Eddie again. His breath hitched at that idea, and he made another desperate, failed attempt to retrieve his journal. Frustrated, he slammed his fists down on either side of Richie's head, and stared down at him.

"You're a fucking prick."

"And?"

"And I hate you."

Richie tilted his head, eyes glinting behind his frames. "You can have it back." Eddie sighed in relief, and reached for it expectantly. Richie pulled it away again.

Eddie scowled, and looked back down at him. Richie shifted underneath him, and only then did he realize their position. If Eddie shifted down, they'd be grinding together. He desperately wanted to, he knew it would feel so good. But two seconds of pleasure wasn't worth the loss of their friendship. He tried not to think about it, and instead focused back on his friend's face. "Give it back."

"No."

"But you said—" Eddie began to whine, and Richie tutted.

"You didn't let me finish. You can have it back, but you have to ask nicely." Eddie narrowed his eyes, and contemplated violence to get what he wanted.

But Richie was bigger than him (which he liked more than he cared to admit) and if Eddie started a fight, Richie would finish it in a painful way. He bit the inside of his cheek, before giving in.

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please can I have my journal back?"

"Who are you asking?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, and moved to get off of him. "Forget it. Just read it, I don't give a fuck."

Richie shrugged, but his free hand slid up to Eddie's waist and tugged him back on top of him. "Okay." He nonchalantly swung the book open, and Eddie panicked. He choked on a breath, and tried to grab it, but Richie saw it coming. He raised an eyebrow, and Eddie sighed again.

"God, you're a cunt."

"I believe you have some begging to do."

Eddie pursed his lips, then said through grit teeth, "Please Richie. Can I have my journal back?"

His words hung in the air, a triumphant smile on Richie's face before he handed back Eddie's belonging. "One day," he chimed as he pushed himself on his elbows. Their faces only a few inches away from each other, once again. Eddie could see the faint freckles on the bridge of his nose, and the way his eyelashes brushed against the lenses of his glasses. "I'm going to read your diary."

Eddie scoffed, and shook his head. He stared at the brown leather in his hands, and bit his lip. That could never happen.

Richie nodded his head towards the door. "As much as I love the position we're in, I'm about to pass out. Go get changed."

Eddie's mouth dried as he realized he was sitting on his friend's legs. He stammered out an apology, before he ducked into the bathroom to change. He definitely did not imagine Richie watching him as he stripped.

When he padded back into his room, the lights were off, and he could see Richie laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Moonlight washed over his curls, which covered his forehead and wrapped around his ears. His skin looked so pale and inviting, Eddie wondered what it would feel like to make marks all over it. Eddie slipped into the space next to him, heart thudding in his ears.

"Richie?" Eddie asked, disrupting the silence. Richie hummed in response. "Can you turn on music or something? It's too quiet."

"Sure, Eds." Eddie heard the sound of Richie's skin sliding against his sheets before his weight disappeared off the mattress. Seconds later, the sound of something colliding with the bookshelf as books thudded to the ground made Eddie turn his head to Richie's silhouette. "Fuck!" Richie shouted, bending over to hold his foot.

Eddie laughed, pushing himself into a sitting position. "You could've turned on the light." He almost reached for the lamp, but knew if he did that, they'd stay up all night. Eddie clenched the bedsheets in his fists instead. Richie just held up his middle finger in response.

He finally reached his desk, where Eddie could see him fiddling with his radio. They both jumped as he turned it on, forgetting they were listening to it at full volume before they went to bed. Richie's arms flailed in the air, and Eddie's head banged against the headboard at the ear-numbing volume. "Turn it down!" Eddie brought his hands up to his ears as it kept playing.

"I'm trying! I can't find the fucking buttons." Eventually, he found the volume, and turned it to an acceptable decibel. He changed the channel to something more soothing, no longer heavy metal.

"That was way harder than it needed to be." Eddie held up the sheets for Richie as he made his way back over, sliding into the cold space next to him.

"I think I broke my toe." Despite himself, Eddie laughed again. Sometimes he worried he laughed too much when he was around Richie. The thought sobered him, and he rested his head back against the pillow as he killed his smile.

"Night, Richie." He mumbled, and turned to face the wall. He heard Richie sigh, before he muttered a goodnight in response.

Eddie dozed off. They laid next to each other for an hour, the clock reading 3:17 when he heard Richie shift for the tenth time in the past five minutes. "Can you lay fucking still?" Eddie snapped, and looked over his shoulder at his friend.

"Sorry, sorry." Richie held his hands up in surrender, and Eddie turned back to the wall. A few beats of silence passed between them before Richie spoke up again. "Hey, Eds?"

"I don't answer to that name."

"Fine. Hey, Eddie?" That was the first sign something had gone terribly wrong. Eddie was only kidding before, not thinking Richie would listen to him. He only called Eddie by his full name when he was annoyed or incredibly angry with him. Eddie's stomach twisted into nerves, wondering what he could've done in the past five minutes to piss him off.

"What's wrong?" He asked, but kept his back to his friend.

"Do you ever have weird dreams?"

"I swear to god, if you're about to tell me about a sex dream you had of my mother, I will smother you to death."

"No," Richie interrupted. "I mean bad dreams."

"Like nightmares?" Eddie frowned.

Richie went quiet for a moment. "Yeah, like nightmares. Except worse."

Eddie rolled over to his other side, and stared up at his friend in the darkness. He could see the slope of his nose, and his eyelashes fluttering without the frame of his glasses to hold them down. "Is that why you look like you haven't slept in a year?"

"Five years, actually." Richie corrected. At his words, ice spread through Eddie's veins. It leaked into his heart, and froze it in his chest as the words processed in his brain. He pursed his lips, a flashbulb or memories from that summer poisoned his mind. He moved one hand to caress his arm.

"What happens?" Eddie urged, though he really didn't want to know. "In your dreams?"

He could see Richie's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "We're older. Like, full-ass adults. We're still in Derry, and Pen-"

"Don't say his name." Eddie blurted. He hated himself for it, but he couldn't help but feel like speaking the name of the clown would summon it. He pulled the sheets further over the both of them.

"Sorry," Richie mumbled.

"No, no, don't apologize. I didn't mean to cut you off, I just..." He trailed off. The silence that ensued was understanding. He shifted closer. "Keep going."

"We're older, back in Derry, and that son of a bitch is killing people again. We try to defeat him in that fucking sewer, and we die. He picks us off one by one, and we die in hell. Every single time."

Eddie didn't quite know what to say. There wasn't really anything he could do to make the dreams go away, or erase the memory of that summer from their minds. Eddie twisted onto his back as his fingers stretched across the mattress, and found Richie's. He intertwined them, giving him what he hoped was a comforting squeeze.

The music from the radio kept cutting in and out of static. They laid in Richie's dark bedroom, smoke lingering on the carpet, and the silver moonlight dipped through the blinds. Richie's hand felt warm in his own, and he could feel the callouses on his fingertips as they brushed against the back of his palms.

Eddie's breathing shallowed. His heart thawed into a wounded animal, and pounded against his ribcage as they laid side by side. If Eddie were to shift, their shoulders would brush.

With a flushing face, he tried to yank his fingers out of Richie's grasp before he suffered a heart attack. But Richie tightened his hold, squeezing so tightly, Eddie thought there would be bruises when he woke up the next morning. The thought didn't sound unappealing.

"I went to your house last night," Richie confessed. Eddie shut his eyes for a moment, and cursed himself.

"You did?"

"Mhm," Richie hummed. Eddie could see his eyes were shut. "You weren't there."

Eddie racked his brain for a suitable lie to tell. Anything to get Richie off his trail. "Well, you see, uh," Eddie stammered. Nothing coherent came out.

tell him tell him tell him tell him

"Stop," Richie commanded. "You don't have to tell me where you were. You were right, earlier. It was only one night, I don't know why I'm acting like such a little bitch about it." He paused. "But you know you can tell me anything, right?"

Eddie turned his gaze to the ceiling, knowing if he looked at Richie, he'd spill his guts. "Yeah, of course. I know that."

"So, you'd tell me if you and Stan started hooking up?" Richie's voice held an unfamiliar tightness to it, something serious brewing under the rippling surface. But Eddie couldn't help the surprised, amused snort that escaped.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Stan and me? Hooking up?"

"Well, I don't know!" Richie exclaimed. "You two snuck off at the clubhouse today-"

"We did not sneak off."

"And then I could hear you two fucking laughing from inside, and his hand was on your goddamn knee, I just thought...I don't know. I thought you two might be together, or something."

"You know Stan has a girlfriend, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"You've met her like ten times."

"Yes, Eds. But-"

"And you know Stan, he'd never cheat on her. And I don't plan on being a home-wrecker until I'm at least thirty. So, no. We're not 'together, or something.'" Eddie kept laughing to himself, the idea of him and Stan mismatched in his brain.

"Okay, asshole. Forget I asked." Eddie just laughed harder, his noise scrunching. He gasped, and almost choked when the hard hit of a pillow came down on his face. "Stop fucking laughing." Eddie could hear the smile in Richie's voice.

"Sorry, sorry." He cleared his throat, the fatigue chased away from the corners of his mind.

"So, does that mean you like Stan?"

"Of course I like him. He's one of my best friends, isn't he?" 

"Don't be dumb, Eddie." Richie turns on his side to face him, their arms twisting to keep their hands interlocked. Unprepared for the eye contact, Eddie looked away.

"Like I said, he's my best friend. I could never like him like that." He flicked his eyes back to Richie's. They darkened, his eyebrows pulling together before he rolled onto his back and disconnected their hands. Eddie's wanted to reach for him again, unsure of what he said to break them apart.

"You can wake me up if you have any nightmares, okay?" Eddie continued, trying to disrupt the tenseness between them. He knew it sounded cheesy, but he felt like it had to be said. He knew Richie wouldn't do it unless Eddie specifically told him to. Richie turned his face to look at him.

"You'll let me interrupt your beauty sleep? Well, shucks Eduardo, I'm flattered."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Okay, you know what?"

"I mean, it wasn't working anyways, but the sentiment is sweet."

"I hope you have the worst nightmare ever."

"I have your mom on speed dial specifically for when I wake up from a bad dream. She always knows how to cheer me up."

"I'll bet she does."

There's a pause. "She cheers me up by sitting on my dick, in case you didn't get it."

"I fucking got it."

He rolled back over on his side, the palm of his hand feeling empty without Richie's. They didn't talk for the rest of the night.  
***  
The bass shook the glasses on the table. The bar buzzed as a random band stepped off stage, and packed their instruments into cases. Eddie tried to peer backstage, but it was blocked by thick curtains. He wondered where Richie was, if his long fingers were tuning his guitar, if he had a blunt between his teeth, or if he was too nervous to do anything but sit with his head between his knees. He figured he was smoking some weed while tuning his guitar, and ruled out the last idea. Richie never got nervous. 

The six losers were spread out across three tables. Stan rambled about birds to Patty, who'd drawn up a chair. Normally Richie's shows were local, but this time they'd driven into the next town over. Eddie loved seeing the band play, but hated the crowds. Hated the noise. Hated how much he wanted Richie when he had his lips pressed against a microphone, and watched the stage lights glint off of his freshly painted nails. 

Eddie took a sip of his Sprite. Patty whispered something into Stan's ear, then disappeared into the restrooms. Stan piped over the music. "So, have you talked to Wes? You know, since you two hooked up?"

Eddie shook his head, and looked at his hands on the table. "No," He told him. "It was a one time thing. I doubt I'll ever see him again." Stan nodded, then moved his chair closer so they wouldn't have to yell as loud. 

"You know, I bet there's a lot of guys here that would love to take you out after the show." Eddie's eyes widened at Stan's words, and his eyes surveyed the crowd as if he were looking for an attack. Stan lightly hit him on the shoulder with the back of his hand. "Don't look so scared. Just find someone you like, and chat him up." 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "Can you imagine me chatting someone up? Dear god." 

Stan smiled. "Just a suggestion." Patty's chair scraped against the floor as she sat down, and Eddie looked away from them as they kissed. He felt a pang in his heart, a kind of longing. Not for Stan, but for someone to kiss in public, without feeling any shame, or fear. Someone who wanted to kiss him not just once, but over and over again. He gulped down another mouthful of Sprite. 

The lights dimmed, and he settled back in his chair as he waited for the show to begin. The MC came back on stage. "Alright, alright, alright! How are y'all doing tonight?" The crowd cheered, and held their drinks in the air. The MC laughed. "Good! Keep that energy for the next group of performers. Please put your hands together for a local band all the way from Derry, Wankman!"

Eddie rolled his eyes at the name. The band changed it all the time, always something sexual and crude. Still, he clapped along with the crowd as Wankman took the stage. 

The first few songs passed in a blur. Eddie watched the veins in Richie's arms and neck as he sang, watched his skilled fingers run effortlessly over the strings of his guitar, and shifted in his seat. He imagined what it would feel like to be trapped under him, to have those same fingers pressing into his skin. 

There was a small break in the set. Eddie wished he was the guitar pick Richie held between his lips as he re-tuned his instrument. His curls clung to his forehead with sweat, and while Eddie normally would've thought that was disgusting, his fingers itched to bury themselves in it. He itched to run his hands down Richie's chest, and pull off the t-shirt that clung to his skin. God, Eddie wanted to die. 

He felt someone tap him on the shoulder from behind. He tensed, ready to turn and bite the stranger's hand off. He whirled in his seat, then paused. 

Because holy shit, this guy was hot. 

"Hey," the stranger said, and stuck out his hand. "I'm Ryan." 

Eddie's lips parted, unsure of whether someone that attractive was actually talking to him. But Ryan was staring into his eyes with a small smile on his face, so Eddie shook his hand. "I'm Eddie." He responded, hoping his voice didn't sound too shaky. 

Ryan leaned further forward. "I've never seen you before. Are you from around here?" Eddie shook his head, and tried his best to hold eyecontact, though he found it hard. 

"No, I'm from Derry." 

"You're a fan of this band, then?" 

"More like the opposite. I know the guitarist." I know the guitarist, the line echoed in his brain. 

Not, my best friend is the guitarist. 

Not, I spend almost every night in the guitarist's bed. But platonically, though I really want him to fuck me. 

Not, I'm in love with the guitarist and hate myself for it. 

Just, I know the guitarist. He hated the simplicity of it, especially since their relationship was anything but simple. Ryan raised his eyebrows. 

"Really? He's good." He took a sip of beer, and Eddie paused. He's old enough to drink, he thought. But ignored it, because he was eighteen, and technically legal. Twenty one wasn't that big of an age difference. 

"Yeah. He's annoying as fuck, though." Ryan tipped his head back and laughed, and Eddie smiled to himself with pride. He'd made a super hot guy laugh. Eddie's eyes scoped down the curve of Ryan's throat. 

"I'll bet." Ryan paused. "Are you staying here for the night?" 

"In the bar?" Eddie pointed at the floor, and Ryan rolled his eyes with a grin. 

"No. I mean at a hotel." 

Eddie pursed his lips. He wasn't staying the night, in fact he and Richie had planned to drive back together. They were supposed to spend the night at his house again. And while the thought of another night of fleeting touches, teasing, and gut-wrenching laughter sounded appealing, the thought of longing stares, flushed cheeks, and shaky hands did not. Eddie straightened his shoulders.

"I hadn't planned on staying, but I'll see where the night takes me." He shrugged. Ryan opened his mouth to say something, when Richie's voice filtered over the speakers again. 

"Do my eyes deceive me, or is my little Eds being hit on by a creepy stranger?" Eddie's eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed. He glared up at the stage, where Richie was playing random chords on his guitar as he smirked at him. People looked around, trying to figure out who 'Eds' was. Stan's covered his face in his hands. 

Eddie gripped the edges of his seat, then turned back to Ryan. "He's kidding." In the silence, Richie could hear Eddie. He snorted. 

"No, I'm not. Just sit and drink your Sprite, Eduardo. Didn't your mother ever teach you stranger danger?" Richie narrowed his eyes at him, and Eddie wanted to slap him. How fucking dare he mention his mother, especially while humiliating him in front of a room full of people. Stan murmured his name quietly. 

Eddie burned under the stares. He hated the arrogant way Richie could act sometimes, like he was smarter than Eddie. Like Eddie needed his protection. Which he certainly didn't, and would die to prove it. So, he stood, and turned to Ryan. "Do you want to get out of here?" 

Ryan opened his mouth again, and Richie proceeded to cut him off a second time. "He doesn't. Trust me pervert, you don't want to leave with Eddie spaghetti unless you want him to bitch at you about everything you do." He adjusted the microphone, and Eddie tried not to focus on the way his hands looked wrapped around it. 

"Yeah, let's go." Ryan said, and stood up as well. He pushed in his chair, and grabbed his jacket. 

"Hey pal, I said back off." Richie suddenly snapped into the microphone, his voice hoarse. It took every fiber in Eddie's body to convince him from walking up on that stage and beating him to death. Ryan slung an arm around his shoulders, and ruffled his hair. 

"I know a lake we can go to. It's beautiful at night." 

"Eddie, sit back down before I make you." 

That was the final straw. He refused to be talked down to, like he was a little kid who could be bossed around. Richie had never treated him like that before, he was almost acting like his mother. And he couldn't fucking stand it. 

"You're gonna make me? How? You can't even make your fucking girlfriend come, you piece of shit." A flame of laughter ignited the bar. Richie's bandmates were all looking at each other with smirks, but Richie's hubristic smile had been wiped clean off of his face, and replaced with wide eyes and parted lips. 

While it might've been the stage lights, his eyes seemed darker than usual. His face more pale and structured as his hands tightened around the neck of his guitar. He looked so mean, so dangerous, like he'd jump off the stage and start swinging. Eddie knew that was very plausible, so he grabbed Ryan's wrist, tugged him through the bar, and out the side exit. 

***

It was almost one in the morning when Eddie returned to the bar parking lot. The streetlights lit the pavement in yellow, the darkness around them chased away. Once the car slowed, he popped open the passenger door, and slid out. "Thanks for the ride, it was nice to meet you. Sorry about all...that." 

Ryan shook his head. "Don't apologize, it's all good." He cleared his throat, then peered around Eddie's shoulder at Richie. He leaned back in his seat, and looked up at him. "You should let your friend know that you like him. If he cares about you like he claims he does, then he won't be cruel about it. Tell him." 

tell him tell him tell him tell him

Eddie didn't reply, and instead just gave him a small wave before he shut the door. He jammed his hands into his pockets as he watched Ryan's taillights disappear around the corner. 

Gravel crunched under his shoes as he turned to face the group. He could see the losers around Richie's car, but Richie himself was detached. Smoking a cigarette as he stood a few feet away from the group, leaned against the trunk of his car. Eddie could feel his stare on him as he made his way to his car. 

They said mean shit to each other all the time, and on paper this argument was no different. But Eddie knew it was. He could feel it in the way Richie stared him down, his eyes lit with a certain anger he'd only seen in sewers. 

He felt flushed already, his hair messy and falling past his eyebrows. He passed Richie with downcast eyes, unsure of how to even approach him. Bev noticed him first. "Eddie!" She threw her arms around him, and he staggered back, the smell of liquor strong. "We thought you were dead!" She pulled back, but kept her hands on his shoulders. 

"Didn't think you'd come back," Mike said as he took a swig of beer. Eddie shrugged Bev's hands off of him. 

"Of course I would, how would I get home?" 

"The hot hunk of meat you just fucked would take you home, of course!" Bev was really drunk if she thought Eddie fucked Ryan. He opened his mouth to deny her assumption, but the car engine whirred on. 

"Come on, Eddie." Richie jerked his head towards the passenger seat. He looked solemn, the shadows of the car shrouded his face. Eddie knew the second he was trapped in that car, they'd be fighting. He didn't want to be locked in the lion's den. But no one offered to save him.

He hesitantly broke from the group. "I'll see you guys on Monday," he murmured, though he imagined Richie would kill him before then. His fingers trembled as he pulls the door open, and slowly clicked on his seatbelt. They turned onto a dark road. 

The radio wasn't on. Eddie wasn't talking, and neither was Richie. Eddie's nerves twisted, and he sunk lower in his chair. A silent Richie meant a pissed Richie, which meant a rough night for Eddie. 

He shifted in his seat, and glanced over at Richie. He had his window down, like usual, and the wind tousled his curls. He brought a hand up to comb them back, and adjusted his glasses on his face. His jaw remained clenched, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. 

"Richie," Eddie started, unsure of what to say, but hating the tension that hung in the air between them. Richie just gave a small shake of his head. 

"Don't, Eddie. We're not going to start this now." 

Eddie averted his gaze to his reflection in the dark window. He didn't even know why Richie was mad! He's the one that started heckling him in the first place, Eddie had every right to snap at him. He had no problem humiliating the blonde, so he had no problem embarrassing him right back. The memory of the interaction raised his blood to a boil, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest as his eyebrows sunk into a frown. If Richie wanted to wait until they got to his house, then fine. Eddie would break him to pieces in the comfort of his own home. 

They pulled into Richie's dark driveway around 3 AM. Richie twisted the keys in the ignition and turned the car off, the headlights cutting out. He didn't wait for Eddie before he slipped out of the driver's side, and slammed the door so hard the car shook. Eddie remained glued to his seat, and tried to gather all of his thoughts before he made his way out, and bounded up Richie's front steps as he fiddled with the front door. 

Richie swung it open, and flicked on the light as Eddie locked the door behind him. He heard Richie toss his keys on the counter, the sound echoing like a gunshot in their silence. Eddie took a deep breath, and turned to follow his friend into the kitchen. 

Richie leaned back against the counter, his toned arms crossed in front of his chest. "What the fuck, Eddie?" 

"That's what I should be asking you." Eddie shifted on his feet, and tried to keep his head high. Richie rolled his eyes, and looked away for a moment. 

"I told you that in confidence, you promised you wouldn't say anything." 

"Well, you were acting like a complete prick!" Eddie clenched his fists at his sides. Richie's eyes caught on them, before they dragged back up to his face. He stared him down, like he could crush Eddie with his bare hands if he wanted to. 

"Jesus Christ, I was only kidding. When did you stop being able to take a joke?" He narrowed his black eyes, and Eddie hated himself for looking at his shoes in shame. Richie always went too far, made Eddie react, then guilted him for it. Eddie was fucking sick of it. 

"When your jokes stopped being fucking funny." Richie straightened at his bratty tone, and if he wasn't towering over Eddie before, he definitely was now. Eddie only came up to his shoulders (which were broad, and could easily pin Eddie down. But that's irrelevant), and the height difference, mixed with the malice in Richie's face, made him want to back down. 

"Did Ryan have good jokes? Did he make you laugh?" 

Eddie reeled, and took a step back. He shut his eyes, his brain a burst of static as he took in Richie's words. "Is that what this is about? Ryan?" 

"Of course this is fucking about Ryan! You left me for that cunt." Richie snapped, and Eddie's eyes widened as his voice echoed around the kitchen. He blinked as he watched Richie turn his back to him, his fingers tugging at his roots. "Shit," He cursed, and slammed his hands down on the counter. "Every time I close my eyes I see you two fucking in the backseat of his car."

Eddie frowned. "Well, stop it." He offered lamely, and Richie tipped his head back as he laughed, but it didn't hold his usual lightness. Goosebumps rose on Eddie's skin from the coldness of it. "Why does it matter if we fucked or not? It's not like you're celibate. You fuck someone every day, and you don't see me throwing a temper tantrum." 

"Yeah, well, that's different." Richie slowly turned back around, both of his hands gripped the counter by his hips. 

Eddie sighed, exasperated. "How? Please tell me, how is it any different?" 

Richie licked his lips, his face expressionless, which was somehow worse than his scowl. He looked down at Eddie with pity. "Come on, Eds. You know why." 

Eddie nodded his head, and glanced down at his shoes again. "Look, Richie," His voice wavered, and for a moment, he feared he might actually cry. He swallowed, unwilling to show the amount of power his best friend had over his emotions. "I know you think I'm a little kid, and that I'm naïve and unfuckable, but--" 

"Woah, where the fuck did that come from?" Richie blurted, his shoulders tense again. Eddie kept his eyes on the floor, knowing if he made eye contact he would shrivel, and the dam would break. "I definitely don't think you're unfuckable. And I don't think you're a little kid."

"Then why do you treat me like one?" 

"I don't!" 

Eddie raised his voice, and gestured wildly with his hands as he heaved in gasping breaths. "You do! You talk down to me, like I can't make my own fucking decisions. God, sometimes you're just like my mother." 

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. 

Richie's face fell, his anger melting into despair. His lips parted, and his fingers that tapped against the counter froze. Eddie let out a shaky sigh, and shook his head. He wanted to swallow the words back up, admit he didn't mean them. But a small part of him did, and he hated himself for it. Guilt bled into his blood stream. 

tell him tell him tell him tell him

But then Richie's despair melted into an unknown expression. His eyes narrowed, and his lips pursed. Eddie wanted to look away, wanted to hide under a blanket, far away from his icy gaze. "What did you just say to me?" He lowered his voice, and took a step forwards. 

Eddie tensed as his hands picked at the hem of his shorts. "Richie," he started, but was cut off. 

"No, tell me what you just said. I want to hear it again." 

Eddie didn't repeat himself. If he thought there was thick tension before, the air had become unbreathable. His heart beat against his chest, tears pricked behind his eyes, and he felt like no matter what he said, he'd just make the situation worse.

He wanted to hold his ground, wanted to scream at Richie and make him hear how terrible he made him feel. And how much he loved him for it. 

But he didn't, and decided to surrender before he ruined their friendship forever. He looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. "I didn't say anything." 

Richie hummed, and continued crossing the kitchen. His hips met Eddie's as he crowded him into the counter, the edge dug into Eddie's lower back. His cheeks heated, and he tried to look anywhere else, but Richie wasn't having it. He grabbed Eddie's jaw so roughly it would bruise, and forced his chin up. His neck craned back, eyes shimmering in the dim kitchen lighting. Richie leaned in close, their noses almost brushing. Eddie's heart stopped. 

"Never say that to me again. If you do, I'll show you just how cruel I can be, and put your mother to shame. You understand me?" Eddie stared up at him with wide eyes, knees weak at the rough rasp of his voice. "Do you understand me?" Richie repeated through grit teeth, and Eddie's eyes flicked to his lips before meeting his gaze again. 

"You're so fucking mean," he whimpered. Richie's lips spread into a grin as his fingers on Eddie's jaw tightened. 

"I know, baby. But that wasn't my question." 

Baby, the word made Eddie's stomach drop. He huffed, the pain of being pressed against the counter made him speak. His skin burned where they were touching, he needed to be free of Richie's touch before he exploded. "I understand," he spit. Richie nodded, then took a step back. 

"Good. Let's go to bed, yeah? I'm tired as shit." He bounded towards the stairs, like he didn't just hold Eddie against the counter with his hips, like he didn't just manhandle Eddie like he did in all of Eddie's fantasies, then leave him half hard in a dark kitchen.


	3. love ballad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stab my heart, bleeding out, if you feel doubt about  
> Me loving you, cause oh I do  
> Pour gasoline on me, oh yes I burn slowly  
> So that you feel, I am for real  
> Love Ballad//Tove Lo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER THREE!!!! Thank you so much to everyone who left kudos, commented, or bookmarked the last few chapters! It really motivated me to keep writing. I worked on this chapter instead of finishing my short story for my creative writing portfolio, so I really hope you like it. Maybe I should just turn in my reddie fanfic for a final grade.   
> ANYWAYS  
> stream Tove Lo for clear skin.   
> writeretire on tumblr, if you want you can come say hello!

Richie sat two rows behind Eddie in their math class. He could see him scribbling marks onto his test, then furiously erasing them just seconds later. He'd finished his own test ten minutes ago, but no one else had turned theirs in, so he waited.

Plus, he liked watching Eddie work. Though Richie couldn't see his face, he knew the tip of his tongue poked out of the corner of his lips whenever he concentrated. And he probably had a slight flush to his freckled cheeks, because his face turned an adorable pink whenever he got frustrated. And his perfect eyebrows were probably furrowed, and he had his slim fingers wrapped so tightly around the pencil his knuckles turned white.

Richie's leg bounced under the table as he watched the muscles in Eddie's back as he took a second to stretch his arms before resuming his test. Richie shifted in his seat as his eyes trailed down Eddie's arms, and to the black shorts he wore that day. God, he wanted Eddie to crush him with his thighs.

Basically, Richie did not think Eddie was unfuckable.

Out of all the things they said to each other, that's what bothered Richie the most. Because Richie had been wanting to fuck Eddie since he was thirteen, and figured out how gay sex worked. And it's not like he really hid it, either.

He let Eddie crawl all over him in the hammock, ran his hands over the blonde's thighs, wrapped them around his waist, wrestled with Eddie until he had him pinned underneath him. He made jokes about it all the time, how he would fuck him if he ever got the chance.

Richie was obsessed with the way Eddie would roll his eyes and shove him away, the way he would tell him to 'fuck off.' But his eyes always lit up, his skin always flushed, and he always came right back to Richie when the bickering paused.

Those moments followed him to his dreams. 

And he felt disgusting for it, truly, he did. If Eddie knew half of the shit Richie thought about, he'd never talk to him again. He wouldn't get Eddie at all. The thought made him want to rip his skin off and set it on fire, so he kept his dirty thoughts to himself. Well, the serious ones, at least.

Because Richie cared for Eddie, and he had no problem admitting it. Yeah, Eddie irritated the hell out of him, but even on his worst days Richie would take a bullet for him. His last intention was to hurt Eddie, but sometimes it happened. Like last weekend.

It's not like Richie could help it, though. Ever since the clown, they'd been close. Of course, they were joint at the hip before, but now he thought he might die if he didn't see Eddie every day. They slept together almost every night, most of the time he snuck through Eddie's window, unless Richie's parents were away. They had a routine that eased his mind, which is why Richie got pissed when Eddie broke it.

And then lied about why.

Richie knew Eddie was keeping something from him, and it bothered him to no end.

The only secret Richie had ever kept from Eddie was the depth of his obsession, but he confided in him with everything else. He thought Eddie did the same, but the past week he'd been...off. Reserved. He hadn't looked Richie in the eyes, and twitched like he was going through withdrawal whenever Richie was close. It frustrated him that Eddie was going through something and keeping it a secret. Richie figured it was just something with his mother, and decided to leave it alone, and let Eddie come to him. 

But then Eddie left with a stranger, at a bar, in an unfamiliar town.

That was the clue something had gone terribly wrong in Eddie's life, and Richie was really missing something

Richie could've killed Eddie, he was so mad. He would've done it, too. Not kill him, but he would've hopped off the stage, grabbed Eddie by his dainty wrist, and dragged him into the grimey bar bathroom to show him who really cares for him.

He knew he was out of line, and probably got too rough with Eddie when they got back to his house, but he couldn't help it. He'd wanted to do so much worse than hold him against the counter. Neither of them explicitly apologized for their behavior, and while Richie knew he should, he couldn't. Simply because he could still see the two of them disappearing out the side door, leaving Richie on stage with a twisting gut and heady, drunken jealousy.

The bane of his existence was someone got to know what if felt like to be with Eddie, and that someone wasn't him. It was goddamned Ryan, and goddamned Zach.

Which wasn't fucking fair. Richie had been following Eddie around like a dog since they met. He didn't want to be an asshole about it, but how could Eddie not see that it was supposed to be RichieandEddie, not EddieandSomeoneelse? Not exactly like Richie was being subtle about it. He figured Eddie knew and didn't want to confront it, so he didn't push it.

Still, he couldn't stand seeing Eddie with someone else. Even if that someone was Stan, who he knew was in love with Patty. His stomach dropped when he heard them laughing about god knows what, then he saw his hand on Eddie's knee, and he could've burned that entire forest to the ground with the heat that flashed through his mind. But he'd gotten better at controlling the urge to wrap his arms around Eddie and hide him away from the rest of the world, so he didn't say anything.

His table partner's chair creaked as she stood, and made her way to the front of the room to turn in her test. Richie followed quickly, and kicked the leg of Eddie's chair as he passed him.

He grinned as Eddie glared up at him. His blonde curls, while normally perfectly styled, were messy from where he'd run his fingers through it. Eddie shook his head to himself, and looked back down at his test with a frown. The shitty classroom lighting brought out his freckles against his tanned skin.

God, Richie wanted to kiss him.

But he didn't, as much as he would've loved to cause a scene. He just walked back to his desk, and doodled for the rest of the hour. He smirked when the teacher called "five minutes!" and Eddie had a conniption.

Richie waited in the hallway for Eddie after class. He leaned against the lockers as students pressed against each other, their laughter and chatter bouncing off the walls. He watched as Eddie talked to the teacher, saying something that made them both laugh. Richie rolled his eyes and shook his head to himself, wondering why he was in love with such a kiss ass.

Eddie adjusted his backpack on his shoulders as he joined Richie in the hall. "Suck his dick, why don't you? Get yourself an easy A." Richie couldn't stop himself from ruffling Eddie's hair (it just looked so soft). Eddie swatted his hands away with a pout like he always did.

"That's gross. And illegal." Eddie turned to go to the cafeteria and Richie followed him.

"It'd be a lot more efficient though. Five minutes of choking, compared to a whole year of seducing him?"

"I wasn't seducing him, you creep. We were just talking." Eddie peered up at Richie with a disgusted expression, and Richie really wanted to push him into the lockers and press their lips together until they fell off. It was a common urge, one he was normally better at suppressing. But some days were harder than others.

Again, his obsession with Eddie had become a problem.

Eddie tugged on his sleeve. Richie hummed, and looked down, yanked out of his thoughts. "I said I have to stop by my locker before lunch." Richie blinked, forced his eyes to a poster stuck on the wall just above Eddie's head, then nodded. Eddie narrowed his eyes. "You're being weird."

"Me?" Richie scoffed. "You're the one that's going to fuck your math teacher for a good grade."

"I'm not going to fuck my math teacher!" Eddie's voice echoed down the nearly empty hallway, and made several other students turn their way with raised eyebrows. Richie grinned as Eddie heaved a blushing sigh.

Richie noticed Eddie's fingers shaking as he turned the combination to his locker. He frowned, and parted his lips to say something, but was interrupted.

"Hey, Eddie."

Richie glanced away from Eddie at the mention of his name, his frown melted into a glare when he saw who was speaking.

What the hell did he want with Eddie? As far as he knew, they hooked up once during freshman year, and haven't talked since. Maybe that's what Eddie's been keeping from him. Richie shifted his glare to Eddie, a flicker of rage blossomed in his chest at the blush on Eddie's cheeks.

"Oh, hey Zach." His eyes were wide, brows a little furrowed as he turned to face Zach. "Um, how are you?" He asked, trying to be polite while wrestling his books into his locker.

"Good, good. How are you?"

"I'm good."

Richie's eyes flicked between them, fingers twitching at his sides as he itched to shove Zach away from them. But the last time he punched Zach in the face, Eddie got pissed, so he refrained. "I'm doing good, too. Thanks for asking," He interjected, trying to keep a light-hearted tone, but the words sounded bitter when they left his lips. The two of them stared at Richie, Eddie's lips pulled into a small smile (that looked more like a grimace). Zach laughed uncomfortably, before looking back at the blonde.

"Listen, can we talk?" Zach took a small step forward, and Richie wanted to break his legs.

Eddie's lips parted, and he looked up at Richie for a brief moment before he answered. "Yeah, of course." They both stared at Richie expectantly, but he made no move to leave. 

If he left, they'd hook up again, start dating, get married, have kids, and live a wonderful life. Richie could not let that happen. But Eddie slid his foot over to Richie's, and stepped on it. "You can go ahead to lunch, just tell the others I'll be there in a minute." Richie took a deep breath.

tell him tell him tell him tell him

"Fine," Richie forced through grit teeth. And then, because he needed to show Zach that he was closer to Eddie than anybody else would ever be, he gripped Eddie's chin and planted a kiss on his cheek. "See you soon, hot stuff." He winked, before giving Zach a tight-lipped smile as he turned down the hallway.

He paused as he rounded the corner, wanting desperately to sit and eavesdrop, but Bill came along and ruined his plan. "Hey Richie," he said, coming out of his classroom. "Why are you just standing there?" He frowned as he looked around. "Where's Eddie?"

Richie needed a cigarette. He shrugged, meeting Bill in the middle of the hall. "He's fucking his teacher because he bombed a math test. Got to get that 4.0, right Billiam?" He clapped his friend on the shoulder as Bill rolled his eyes.

He slammed his lunch tray down on the table next to Beverly, who had her jacket and bag covering two seats. "Where's Eddie?" Was the first thing she asked. Richie sighed, and shut his eyes. As much as he loved talking about his friend, right now he kind of wanted to kill him, and would rather not say where he was.

"I saw him and Zach sitting on a bench together by his locker," Stan interjected, taking a bite of his apple. Richie's stomach churned, and his fingers drummed against the table as Bev's questioning gaze turned to understanding. Richie looked away.

"The guy that took his virginity? I didn't know they were still friends," Mike hummed as he peeled the top back on his yogurt. Richie bit his tongue, using it to distract from the discomfort he felt. He should go check on them, make sure they're okay.

"They're not. It's weird, isn't it?" Bev shook her head, and stabbed a piece of lettuce. "I wonder what they're talking about."

"I'll go find out." Richie's knees cracked as he stood, and his legs banged against the table, causing the milk cartons to rattle. Bev grabbed his backpack strap as he started to shrug it on, and tugged him back down.

"No, I think they need to talk."

"They'd still be talking, I'd just be listening."

"They deserve privacy."

"They wouldn't be able to see me, Beverly. It wouldn't affect their conversation at all," Richie exclaimed, but he was met with head shakes and raised eyebrows. He ran a hand through his hair, his leg rapidly bouncing. His eyes caught on Stan, who had the faintest smile on his face. He narrowed his eyes, and pointed at him. "You know something."

Everyone turned to Stan, who feigned surprise. He placed a hand on his chest. "Is it me you're addressing?"

Under normal circumstances, Richie would've joked along, called him a weird nickname. But this was an emergency situation. "What are you hiding, Stan the Man?" He leaned over the table. "If you know something about this, and you're not telling me--us, then you'll be banned from the Losers Club."

Stan's smile spread into a full out smirk as he took a swig of his chocolate milk. Richie wanted to throttle him. "I'd like to know, too." Ben piped, and Richie look at him in appreciation.

"See? Ben wants to know. Are you gonna say no to Ben? You monster."

Stan blinked at him. "Eddie has been in love with Zach since freshman year, and he told Zach yesterday. They're probably getting together right now."

Richie's heart fell out of his ass as the sheer force of his jealousy almost knocked him out of his chair. He stammered out random syllables as blood drained from his face, and he sat back in his chair. For the first time in his life, he was speechless. 

How could he have let this happen? Eddie had liked someone for four years and Richie never caught on. He knew everything about him, how could he have possibly missed this? 

He was going to kill this Zach motherfucker.

The other Losers looked shocked as well, until Stan burst out laughing. "I'm only kidding, I have no fucking clue why they're talking. I think it's good though, they left things in an awkward place."

Richie felt both relieved, and pissed. "I fucking hate you, Stan," he deadpanned. But his lungs were working again, and his hands had stopped shaking. His shoulders relaxed. He ignored Bev's stare.

They resumed their conversation, but Richie fiddled with an orange for most of it, mind wandering back to what Eddie and Zach could be talking about. He kept glancing at the clock. It'd been ten minutes, now fifteen. What kind of conversation takes fifteen minutes?

He perked up when he saw Eddie walk into the cafeteria. He grinned, and tossed Bev's bag into her lap. She choked on her food, and glared at him, but he didn't care. Eddie had come back, with all of his clothes on, no hickies, and without Zach. "Eds!" He shouted over the noise of the cafeteria. "Saved you a seat. You bring a lunch?"

Eddie stopped at the edge of the table, and bit his lip. "Uh, yeah, but I'm gonna eat in the library today. I just wanted to let you know I don't need a ride home after school."

Richie's smile fell off his face. Damn, just when he thought things were back to normal again. "Oh." He tried not to show the extent of his disappointment. "Why?" He already knew the answer, but he hated himself, so he needed to hear Eddie say it.

"Zach wanted help on a project, he can take me home after." He was met with a few moments of silence.

"Eddie," Beverly started, her tone careful.

"It's not weird." Eddie immediately got defensive, like he always did.

"I know, it just seems like he's using you a bit."

Eddie frowned. "Using me? How?"

The idea of Zach using Eddie for anything made Richie's blood boil. "You don't talk for three years, and now he wants you to do his homework? Come on, Eddie." Eddie's frown deepened as he shook his head, and took a step back from their table.

"It's not like that. And I wasn't asking your opinion on it, I just thought I should let you know," he bristled, then turned to leave with a final glare over his shoulder. Richie's fists clenched at his sides.

"Bye Eddie," Ben called after him.  
***  
"He's just being...weird, I guess. Distant. Something is very wrong, and he's not telling me." Richie lit a cigarette, eyes shutting in relief at the much needed nicotine. "And I didn't do anything to make him mad, so I have no fucking clue why he's keeping all these secrets. I mean, we're best friends!" The phrase 'best friends' felt odd on his tongue when describing his and Eddie's relationship. It didn't quite run deep enough. There were probably no words to describe the complexity of their friendship. "Doesn't he trust me?"

"Well, to be fair, the last time he hooked up with someone, you went batshit." Richie watched Michelle shrug on her tank top. She sent him a curious glance over her shoulder.

"Yeah, but that was different. Zach took advantage of Eddie's naiveté!"

Michelle cocked her head with a confused expression. "Did he?"

"Yes! And I apologized for that, so it's basically like it didn't even happen." Richie settled back against his pillows, and stared at his ceiling fan. Michelle sighed.

"Why do you care so much? He's his own person, I think he's allowed to have a secret or two." She stood, and shrugged on her purse. She dug out her car keys.

Her words bothered him. While technically true, he had always been accepting, and open to Eddie. Never judged him, or ridiculed him, at least about the personal things he trusted Richie with. He thought he'd earned Eddie's precious trust. It wasn't okay, and Richie needed the distance between them to lessen before he lost his mind and snapped.

"Yeah," Richie hummed. Another drag. "I guess."

Michelle made her way to his bedroom door, but paused just as she was about to pull it shut behind her. "You know," she started, "if you really want to know what's going on, you could just ask him."

Richie's face curled into disgust. "Get the fuck out." He pointed at her, and he could hear her laugh down the hallway.

He didn't love Michelle. He liked her, sure, but he didn't feel anything when he saw her with other guys.

He thought of his hookup as his friend, and wanted his friend to be his hookup. Oh, the irony.

They used each other for sex, plain and simple. Every time they fucked, he imagined she had blonde hair and freckles. He imagined she was wearing obnoxious shorts, or a soft sweater two sizes too big. And he always imagined Michelle's moans were Eddie's whenever he went down on her. Yet another thing that made him feel gross.

Eddie crawled through his window at 8:47 in the evening, seven minutes later than he usually did. He was never late. His shoes landed on Richie's carpet. "I'm so sorry," he gushed, his hands shaking as he shut the window behind him. It had started to pour outside, and Eddie's hair cling to his face. "I didn't mean to be late. It's just homework was a bitch, my mom was being her usual self, and then it started raining—"

"Hey," Richie interrupted. "It's all good. You're only seven minutes later than you usually are, Eds."

Eddie kicked off his shoes, and let his jacket fall to the floor. Richie tried not to focus too hard on the sight of his wet clothes sticking to his body. "Don't call me that."

Normally, Richie would've kept calling him Eds, but the blonde's lips were practically blue as he shivered where he stood. Richie sat up, and swung his legs over the side of his bed. "You can borrow some clothes if you want, don't want you to wet the bed." He winked, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

Richie yanked open his drawers. "Any requests?" He asked over his shoulder, and of course, Eddie started rambling. 

"Something you just washed. I don't want dirty clothes, or clothes that have been sitting in your dresser for months. Preferably cotton, but I'll make do with silk or satin. I'm not picky." 

Richie had his back turned to Eddie, so he couldn't see the stupid smile on his face as he babbled. "You're the pickiest person I've ever met, Eddie Spaghetti." He picked out a random t-shirt and joggers, before he turned and threw them at Eddie. 

"I'm not picky!" Richie stared at him with a raised eyebrow, and Eddie went quiet for a moment. "Not pickier than Stan, at least. Have you ever tried to cook for him? He's like a fucking two year old." Eddie started walking towards his bedroom door, and Richie caught his wrist. 

"Where are you going?" He asked, and Eddie held up the clothes. 

"I'm on my way to fuck your sister." He rolled his eyes. "I'm going to go change, asshole. What else would I be doing?" Richie sat back on the edge of his bed. 

"You can just change in here." 

Eddie blinked at him, his cheeks tinged pink. "A striptease will cost you twenty dollars." 

"Twenty dollars for a measly striptease?" 

"Gotta pay the bills." He grinned, and left the room before Richie could stop him.

He would've gladly paid twenty dollars for a striptease from Eddie. 

But that was unimportant, because Richie could feel his resolve shaking. Even though Eddie was soaked, and looked a bit like a wet dog caught in the rain, he looked adorable. And every second he stood in his room, Richie wanted to wrap his arms around him and squeeze. His body ached to kiss him. Well, he wanted to do more than kiss, but mostly just lay in his bed with tangled limbs. Skin on skin, and he could thread his fingers through his blonde curls, and press his lips to every freckle on his skin. The idea made his chest throb. 

He had exactly one minute and thirty seven seconds to get himself together before Eddie came back. He knew how quickly Eddie changed, and added an extra thirty seven seconds onto that considering the fact that he was wet. Richie's head dropped to his hands as he perched his elbows on his knees, and he rubbed at his eyes under his glasses to try and get rid of the mental image of a wet Eddie changing in his bathroom. 

His bedroom door creaked open. Richie threw himself back on the bed, and picked up a random comic. He didn't want Eddie to know he'd been having a crisis. Eddie shuffled in, and winced as the door gave a loud click. "Do you want me to lock it?" He turned over his shoulder to look at Richie. 

Richie's mouth went dry. He'd never seen Eddie in his clothes. Well, at least not since they were little kids. His shirt went down to his thigh, and he wasn't wearing pants. 

Eddie was in Richie's room without pants on. Lord have mercy. 

"Richie," Eddie snapped. "Do you want me to lock your fucking door?" 

"Uh, yeah." Richie cleared his throat, and gripped the comic with white knuckles. Eddie gave him a weird look, before he twisted the lock and shut off the lights. Richie's dim lamp lit the room as he made his way over to the bed. He tossed the joggers on top of Richie's dresser. 

"Were the pants not satisfactory?" Richie tried to joke, but it didn't quite come out right. Even in the minimal light, he could see Eddie flush. He felt a rush of achievement. 

"They were too big." 

"Are you calling me fat?" 

"I'm calling myself really skinny." Richie refused to move over when Eddie slid under the covers, even though he knew he was technically on his side of the bed. Eddie didn't seem to mind, and Richie needed this closeness, or he would do something very, very stupid. 

"So," Richie started. "Did you get Zach's project finished?" He flipped onto his side to face Eddie, who avoided his eyes. 

"Mostly. He just needed help with revisions and shit, he knows I'm good at that stuff." 

"At least he didn't ask you for math help." Eddie punched his shoulder as Richie snickered. 

"You dick, that test was hard!" 

"For stupid people." 

"You're stupid people." 

Richie snorted. "Wow, good one, Eds." 

"How many times have you almost electrocuted yourself?" 

"Irrelevant." Eddie laughed softly, and Richie wanted to record it and play it on a loop. Eddie turned onto his side, too, so they could look at each other. Richie swallowed. They were close, closer than they'd been in the past week. 

His eyes traced the slope of Eddie's neck, then the curls in his hair. His curls were normally perfectly styled, but the rain had messed them up, and caused them to dry frizzy and unruly. They fell into his eyes, and before Richie could stop himself, he was bringing his fingers up to brush them out of Eddie's face. 

His eyes caught on Eddie's lips as they parted, his eyes widening as Richie's fingers glazed his skin. His hair was soft, and Richie desperately wanted to pull on it. He inched closer. It would be so easy, just lean down a few inches and press their lips together. 

His breath hitched in his chest as he noticed Eddie's eyes flick down. He moved slow, until their fronts were pressed together. Their noses brushed, and Eddie's eyelashes fluttered. A flash of lightning lit the room before Richie let his own eyes close, his heart pounding in his ears. 

And then thunder shook the house. 

It cracked in their ears, loud enough to rattle their bones. Eddie jumped away with a shriek, and disappeared over the edge of the bed. Richie could hear him hit the floor with a thud. If he weren't so disappointed, he would've laughed. But he had been so close, so fucking close, and it had been ripped from him. God fucking dammit. 

His chest fell, and he rolled onto his back as Eddie stood. They stared at each other for a moment, both biting their tongues. Richie wanted to scream. 

tell him tell him tell him tell him

Richie lifted himself to turn off the light as Eddie tucked himself in, and turned to face away from Richie. The distance between them felt cold, empty. 

***  
Richie was on his third beer by the time Eddie showed up to movie night. The Losers had one fairly regularly, a sleepover at Bill's house while they drank and bickered for hours. "Sorry," he mumbled. "My mom was being difficult, like always." He grinned, but his voice was hollow. Richie could see the redness in his eyes, and his knuckles tightened around his beer. 

But no one else seemed to notice, so he didn't say anything. Just moved over on the couch to make room for Eddie, as he made his way over to his usual spot next to him. "Hey Eds," Richie greeted. "Want a Sprite?" 

Eddie didn't fight him on the nickname, which was a sign he really went through it with his mom tonight. He nodded, muttering a thank you as he popped it open. Richie stared at Eddie's side profile as he turned his attention to the movie. Eddie casted a sideways glance at him. "What?" He asked, and Richie sighed. 

He was still caught up in their almost kiss from a few nights ago. He could still feel the brush of Eddie's nose against his, the feeling of their skin pressed together. 

I wanted to kiss you, Richie wanted to say, and it seemed like you wanted to kiss me. 

"Are you okay?" Is what Richie said instead, and Eddie nodded. 

"Nothing I haven't been through before." 

"Yeah, but--"

"Look, Richie, I appreciate your concern, but I just want to watch the movie." He looked away again, and Richie bit his tongue as he took another swig of beer. 

God, sometimes you're just like my mother. 

He heard Eddie's voice in his head, and felt a pang in his chest. He'd rather die than cause him the amount of pain his mother inflicts on him. The night passed quickly. Drinking several beers, throwing popcorn at each other, loud laughter. Richie tried not to focus too much on Eddie, but he couldn't really help it when his best friend was being unusually quiet, and looking so cute in a blue sweater. 

When they finally went to bed, they laid next to each other, again, but on separate piles of blankets and pillows. Richie kept glancing at Eddie's sleeping form, which stirred every few minutes, until his dreams pulled him under. 

Not that his dreams were much better. Eddie followed him there, too. Sometimes they were nice dreams, the two of them laying by the quarry. And sometimes they were really nice dreams, with wandering hands and swollen lips. But every so often there'd be bad ones, too. Eddie being killed by Pennywise in the Niebolt house, a memory of Eddie's arm breaking. It was his screaming that always woke Richie up. 

Except tonight, Eddie's scream wasn't just in his dreams. It was real. 

Richie shot up, blankets tangled in his legs. He caught himself before he face planted onto Stan, who was rubbing his eyes. A burst of panic blurred Richie's vision as he tried to figure out which direction the scream was coming from. He had to get to Eddie. 

Bev was right behind him. They stumbled into the dark hallway, where they could see Eddie stumble out of the bathroom. He had his shoulders bunched by his ears, eyes wide. Richie almost broke his neck when his socks caused him to slide, but he braced himself against the wall. 

"What's wrong?" He asked, words jumbled with urgency. He grabbed Eddie's arms and turned his frame to face him. When Eddie started stuttering with wide eyes, staring up at him, Richie moved his hands to cup his face. "Eddie, what happened? Are you hurt?" His thumb brushed back and forth over Eddie's cheek as he scanned his body for injuries. 

Eddie stammered. "There's a frog." 

Richie paused, unsure if his heart-shattering panic had messed up his hearing. "What?" 

"In the bathroom," Eddie stuttered, "There's a frog in the sink." 

Beverly cursed behind them. Richie blinked. "Jesus, Eddie. I thought you were being killed or something." Eddie frowned up at him. 

"I could've been. Do you know how many diseases frogs carry?" 

Richie didn't, but he had a feeling Eddie was about to tell him. "Who the fuck was screaming at three in the morning?" Stan grumbled, the rest of the Losers joining them in the hall. 

"That'd be Eddie. He saw a frog." Beverly disappeared into the bathroom, and Eddie peered around Richie to yell at her. 

"Don't touch it!" 

"It's just a fucking frog, it's not going to hurt anyone." Richie slid an arm around Eddie's shoulders as they stood next to each other. He didn't think he could let go of Eddie after the fright he just had. 

Eddie narrowed his eyes at the amphibian as Beverly carried it out of the bathroom. It leapt out of her hands, and this time, Eddie wasn't the only one to scream. Stan jumped out of the way, and crashed into Bill, knocking them into the wall. Richie took a step back, and pulled Eddie with him as he pressed himself into Richie's side, a waterfall of profanities tumbling from his mouth. Richie would've laughed if he wasn't still thinking of Eddie dying. 

Mike sighed and shook his head. "You're all a bunch of pussies, I hope you know that." He and Bev worked together to corral it outside, and Richie followed them. Eddie broke away, much to his dismay, and made his way back to the living room with the others. 

The cool night air nicked at their cheeks as the three of them watched the frog disappear under a bush. "You coming?" Beverly asked as she made her way over to the door, and Richie nodded. 

"Just give me a minute." Mike and Bev looked at him skeptically, but shrugged at each other before going back into the house. 

Richie leaned against the ledge of the front porch, and took several deep breaths. Eddie's scream bounced around in his head. His heart still skipped a few beats, memories of sewers flitted about his mind. He really thought Eddie was about to be killed ten minutes ago. 

"Are you okay?" Richie turned at the sound of Eddie's voice, and the screen door fell shut behind him. 

"Yeah," Richie said, turning back to face the street. Eddie joined him, and their shoulders brushed. Richie was going to lose his mind. "No," he changed his answer. "I thought you-know-who was back, and he was going to kill you."

Eddie went quiet. "He's not coming back." 

Richie shook his head. "Eds," he started, but was interrupted. 

"No." Eddie turned to face him, craning his neck backwards to look up at him. "He's gone. For now, at least. We beat him, he can't hurt any of us. You don't need to be worried about me." 

God, sometimes you're just like my mother

Eddie's words bounced through his head again, but Richie couldn't brush them off this time. "I do, though. Worry about you. I just don't want anything bad to happen to you." 

Eddie looked down at his shoes, before he took a sudden step forward, and wrapped his arms around Richie's torso. Richie staggered back a step, his eyes wide, when he felt Eddie jam his face into his chest. 

Richie returned the embrace, resting his chin on top of Eddie's head. His curls brushed his chin, but he didn't care. This felt like the old them, the way they used to touch before things got weird. 

Still, Richie knew something was wrong. Not just with Eddie's mother, but something else. Richie felt a burning need to figure it out. He had to know everything about Eddie, and he knew just how to figure this shit out.


	4. crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was over you, and it's true,   
> I love you even more than I did before   
> But darling, what can I do   
> For you don't love me, and I'll always be crying over you  
> Crying//Don McLean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another long chapter, sorry about that! I didn't realize it was going to be so long until it was over 7,000 thousand words and I was just like ???? but anyways, I hope you like it! Thank you to the people who left such nice comments on the last chapter, I appreciate it so much!!   
> There is underaged drinking in this chapter, so be warned about that. Also, I have never been to a party, nor have I ever used a keg. I apologize if I got some details wrong. I'm too lame to know how it actually works.   
> writeretire on tumblr, if you'd like to say hi!!   
> I;m also on fall break right now, so I should be able to upload another chapter within the next few days! The story is really going to pick up next chapter, sorry it's been a little slow.

Eddie Kaspbrak was going to murder Richie Tozier.

"Excuse me for a second," he mumbled to Zach, who didn't even look up from his math packet as Eddie's chair scraped against the carpet. His lips settled into a pursed line as he stalked across the library. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Richie fiddled with the spines of several books, running his fingers across them like we was searching for a specific one. He looked unnatural, like he'd been caught. "It's a public space."

"I've never seen you in the library before. Ever. In fact, I'm not even sure you can read."

"I'm a scholar at heart."

Eddie crossed his arms. "You're banned from the library."

Richie cocked his head. "Am I? I don't recall."

"You don't remember getting wasted in the supply closet, and then trying to jump from shelf to shelf, thus sending them falling like dominos?" Eddie raised an eyebrow, and Richie's lips twitched up as he took a step closer.

"I plead the fifth."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Then can you tell me why you've been peering through the shelves at me for the last hour like a fucking creep? I told you I'll come over later tonight. I need to fucking study."

"And I'm just trying to find a book! You're thwarting my education, Eds."

"Don't call me that. And the erotica section is over there." He moved out of Richie's way, and pointed towards the back shelves.

Richie's eyes followed to where he pointed, and a mischievous spark ignited within them as they met Eddie's. "You go there often?" Richie smirked.

Eddie grabbed a hefty novel from the shelf, then raised it like a weapon. "Leave. Or I swear to god I'll tell the authorities."

Richie smiled as he raised an eyebrow. He tilted his head down at Eddie. It was moments like this where he really hated their height difference. "Oh, the authorities? What would they do to me?"

"Kick you out of the library."

"That's it? I was hoping they'd spank—" Eddie hit him in the chest with the book, cheeks burning, in an attempt to shut him up. Richie laughed, and twisted away from him. "Truce! Truce!" Several people shushed them, and Eddie clapped a hand over Richie's mouth when he laughed too loud. He recoiled when Richie's tongue swiped against his skin, though he didn't think it was as gross as he let on. He just wished Richie's tongue had landed somewhere else. 

Eddie set the book back on the shelf. "I'm going to go back and study, leave me alone." He gave him a pointed look, before he turned and stalked back over to his table.

Literally two seconds after he sat down, Richie decided to bother him again. 

"Mind if I take a seat?" Both Eddie and Zach looked up at him as he pulled out the extra chair at their table, and slammed a book down on the desk. It was a dictionary. Eddie glared up at him through his eyelashes. 

"Someone's sitting there." Richie just grinned, and stared at Eddie as he flipped the cover open. 

"Well, that's just too bad." Eddie gave Zach an apologetic look, not sure how to explain that his best friend was batshit crazy. Zach looked confused, but didn't say anything. He just focused back on his work. 

Which is also what Eddie tried to do, but Richie kept playing footsie with him under the table, and he was about to blow his shit. He gave him several glares, even went so far as to kick his shin as hard as he could. Richie let out a yelp, but if anything, Eddie's retaliation had just made him even more annoying. 

The clock hit five, and Zach unzipped his bag. "You ready to go?" He asked Eddie. In his peripheral, he could see Richie pause his fidgeting. His eyes burned into Eddie's skull. 

"Yeah," he slid his books into his own backpack. "I'll meet you at your car?" Zach smiled and nodded. "Bye Richie," he said. 

"What's your name again?" Richie's voice tightened, and Zach just laughed in response as Eddie sighed. They both watched him shuffle out of the library. 

"Listen--" 

"Are you two fucking?" Richie asked, and Eddie's eyes widened. He shook his head, and stammered for the right words. 

"What? No, we're not, uh, we're not--" 

"It's fine if you are," Richie leaned back in his chair with a shrug of his shoulders, but his jaw was clenched, and his stare was unusually intense. "I just don't know why else you'd be hanging out with him." 

Eddie narrowed his eyes. "Maybe because we're friends, and friends hangout together." 

"Yeah, they do." Eddie wasn't sure of the double meaning behind Richie's words. He hastily zipped up his pencil bag. 

"If there's something you want to say, then just say it." 

"I'm not saying anything."

They stared at each other. In their silence, Eddie could feel the hundreds of thousands of words they wanted to say to each other, but whenever he reached out to catch them, they evaded his grip. He was sick of this torture. 

"You have been acting so weird lately," Eddie began, and Richie choked out a laugh. 

"I'm the one that's been acting weird?" 

"Yes!" Eddie raised his voice, annoyed at Richie's tone. Richie leaned forward, and jammed his finger into Eddie's chest. 

"You're the one keeping secrets from me." 

Eddie's face paled. He couldn't possibly know about Wes, could he? He decided to play dumb. "What secrets?" 

Richie shrugged. "You tell me." 

tell him tell him tell him tell him

Eddie looked down at his hands, clenched in his lap. He bit his lip, trying to find the right words to say. 

I sucked a boy's dick for the first time a little while ago

I never actually lost my virginity

I really like you, do you like me back? 

None of his options sounded right. The silence stretched on, and he could see Richie start to fidget before his hand covered Eddie's. The black nail polish had started to chip. "You've just seemed distant these past few weeks. You haven't been coming over most nights, like you did before." 

Eddie burned under his intense gaze. He knew he should probably meet Richie's eyes, but he it was much easier to focus on his hands instead. "I've just been busy, it's not--" 

"Cut the bullshit, Eds. You haven't been busy. Just tell me what I did so I can fix it." 

Eddie frowned, and gave a slight shake of his head. "You didn't do anything." He finally mustered up the courage to look at him. He swallowed at the vulnerable look on Richie's face, a rare expression he only saw in the early hours of the morning. "I swear, it's not you." He squeezed his hand in his lap, in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "I've just been going through some shit with my mom." He chose his words carefully, a sick twist of guilt burned through him at his lie. Well, not really a lie, just a half-truth. 

Richie looked at him skeptically. He still didn't believe him, at least non one hundred percent. But he dropped it, much to Eddie's relief. "Do you want to talk about it?" He softened his voice as he asked, and moved his chair closer to Eddie. 

Eddie took a deep breath, their proximity made his heart pound. He remembered the other night, when he thought for sure Richie was going to kiss him. And then his warm embrace a few nights ago on the porch...but then he images of him and Michelle leave the janitor's closet together that morning, their clothes disheveled, and he shoved any ideas out of his mind. 

"Maybe tonight, when we're alone." He glanced around the library, expecting people to be staring at them, but no one was. It was just the two of them. Richie nodded, and his hands fell away as Eddie stood. 

"How long are you going to be with Zach?" 

"I don't know, probably not very long. Six, maybe? Seven?" 

"Good to know, your mom and I haven't had proper alone time in ages." 

Eddie shoved him, and nearly knocked him out of his chair as he slung his backpack on. It was good to hear Richie laugh, though, and it brought a smile to his face as he turned away from him. 

***  
Eddie pushed the last of his hashbrowns around his plate. "So, you and Tozier?" Zach raised his eyebrows over his milkshake at Eddie, whose face crumpled in confusion. 

"What?" He exclaimed. "Absolutely not." 

"Really? Cause it kinda seems like your two are a thing. He seemed pissed at me." 

Eddie was unprepared for this statement. He stammered out a few incoherent syllables, trying to find a way to explain their friendship. "He just doesn't like you." 

Zach spluttered a laugh. "Well, good to know." 

"No!" Eddie rushed to correct himself. "It's nothing you did. He can just get a little..." 

"Overbearing?" 

"Protective," Eddie finished, trying to find the right words. He tilted his head. "What do you mean by overbearing?" 

Zach sighed, and shifted in his seat. "It just seems like he gets pissed when you hang out with other people. I mean, does he even allow you to be your own person, or are you just who he wants you to be?" 

Another statement Eddie wasn't prepared for. He blinked at Zach across the table, his stomach churning. 

Sometimes, he thought Richie was the only person in the world who understood him. The only person in the world who thought he was funny, who knew he wasn't some fragile little thing that needed to be protected. 

But he also saw where Zach was coming from. He knew they didn't have a conventional friendship. They talked like they hated each other, but were inseparable. Eddie often laid awake at night, wondering what college would be like when they couldn't spend all of their time together. Hell, they might not even end up in the same state. The thought made him shrivel. 

"He has a weird way of showing he cares about you," is all Eddie could muster up in response. Zach didn't push the subject, thankfully, and they went back to talking about baseball. But his words were stained into Eddie's brain. 

Was he just being who Richie wanted him to be? How could he know? 

"So, to be clear, you're not dating Richie?" Zach asked once the waitress cleared the dishes from the table. 

"God, no. He and I dating would be a disaster, we'd probably kill each other. Besides, he's kind of seeing someone else. Michelle." Her name burned on his tongue, but he forced it out. 

"Okay, good. Because there's something I need to talk to you about." Eddie's heart skipped as Zach's expression turned seriousness, a glint of nervousness in his eyes. No, he thought. Don't say it. 

"Listen, Eddie," he started, then cleared his throat. "I really like you." 

Playing dumb, Eddie said, "I really like you, too." 

"No," Zach interjected, and Eddie flinched. "I really, really like you. And I've been thinking about freshman year, when we kissed, and I want to do that again. With you." 

The third statement tonight that Eddie had not been expecting. His mouth went dry, and he clenched the hem of his shorts, sucking in a deep breath. He'd never been in a situation like this before, he didn't quite know what to say. But apparently, his hesitation was enough. 

Devastating realization crossed Zach's face. He looked at the table. "But you don't like me like that." 

"Zach," he started, and shifted in his seat.

"It's fine, Eddie. I just thought, well, I don't know." Eddie hated himself for making Zach hurt like this, but there was no way he could get involved with someone when he was so in love with Richie. He could hookup with people, sure. But that wasn't serious, there weren't any real romantic feelings in the mix. This was different. 

"I wish I could. You're smart, and funny, and really, really cute, but I just can't. At least, not in Derry. I'm sorry." 

Zach nodded like he understood. "I get it, it's fine." 

Eddie didn't know what else to say. He wished he could take away the hurt, but everything he drafted up in his head only made it worse. "We can still be friends though, right?" Zach asked. 

Eddie smiled. "Of course. I'd really liked that." 

He left the diner a few minutes before Zach. Henry Bowers was waiting for him.   
***  
The shower water stung Eddie's cuts. He winced as the stream turned red, fingers too sore to manually scrub away the filth and blood crusting on his skin. He felt the overwhelming urge to vomit, but every time he tried, nothing came up. He leaned his head against the cool tile, letting his eyes fall shut. 

He stood no match for Bowers and his gang. He wanted to do more than just sit there and take it, but it's not exactly like he knew how to fight. For a brief moment, he thought for sure he'd be beaten to death. And he supposed a part of him was killed in that alley. 

He groaned when he reached to turn off the shower, his limbs bruised and aching. He tried to stifle his noises of pain, because if his mother saw what had been done to him she would flip her shit. He didn't even want to think about how he was going to hide his cuts from her. He just wanted to sleep, he'd worry about everything else in the morning. 

He ran a towel through his hair a few times, hating the way water rolled down his face. His curls still fell into his eyes (he'd been putting off getting it cut), but he didn't have the energy or pain tolerance to blow dry it. So, he just flicked off the bathroom light.

Richie had just swung his legs through Eddie's window. His dark figure shocked Eddie, and made him press himself back against his bathroom door with a shriek. The hands that had been holding his towel around his hips flew up to a defensive stance. His towel crumpled around his ankles, the cold air hitting his bare skin. 

Eddie wished Henry had killed him in the alley.

Eddie thanked the dim fairy lights that lit his room, and hid his blush. But they weren't dim enough to hide his dick, or the rest of his naked body. Richie, naturally, erupted into laughter. "Jesus Christ, Eds. Would've snuck through your window a long time ago if I knew I'd get my own private show." 

Eddie shook his head, and burned with shame. He bit his tongue to keep the grunt of pain down when he stooped to pick up his towel, his heart pounding in his ears. 

Richie had just seen him naked for the first time, and he couldn't even enjoy it. 

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He mumbled, his fingers trembling as he wrapped his towel around himself again. 

"The good Lord gave me a gut feeling, told me to come over and see your cute ass. Didn't know he was being so literal." 

"Oh my god, shut up." 

"Your skin looks great. Do you exfoliate?" 

"God, you are such a--" 

"Eddie bear?" They both froze as his mother's voice seeped through the door. "Are you alright? I heard screaming." 

Eddie swallowed. Richie gave him an amused smirk, and fell back on his bed. He gestured for him to talk, and Eddie narrowed his eyes at his friend. 

"I'm fine, Mama. I just, um, almost slipped." He leaned against his bedroom door, and stared at the open lock. If his mother barged in, his life would be over. 

"Oh, Eddie. You've got to be more careful. Why are you taking a shower so late? Do you feel well?" 

Eddie shifted on his feet, turning his back to Richie completely. "Yeah, I just got some dirt on me when I walked home. I'm going to go to bed soon." He heard his bed springs squeak, and Richie's socked feet press into his carpet. He tried to ignore the sudden presence behind him. His mother wished him goodnight, but he was much too distracted by Richie's fingers running up and down the expanse of his bruised back to note what she was saying. 

When they both heard her footsteps shake the stairs, Richie's gentle fingers took him by the shoulders and spun him around. His brows were furrowed, eyes sympathetic and dark behind his glasses. Eddie looked at his feet. "Eds." Richie spoke in the mind-numbingly soft voice he sometimes used on Eddie. He used it when he broke his arm. Eddie couldn't find it in him to look up, so he kept his gaze locked on his socks.

But that wouldn't do. Richie fingers grasped his chin, and forced his face up. His frown deepened as he took in Eddie's swollen features. He wanted to twist out of his grip, crawl into a crevice, and die, but he had no way of hiding. "What the fuck is this?" Richie asked, taking a step closer. Their chests pressed together. 

"It's nothing," Eddie tried to say, but the fingers on his chin tightened their hold when he tried to turn his face. 

"Bullshit, Eds. Tell me what happened." The soft edge in his voice faded a bit. It was still there, but an underlying tinge of urgency tinted it's innocence. 

"Seriously, Rich. It looks worse than it is." 

He really did not want to have another crisis about it. The first hour after he got home was spent heaving and crying in the corner of his dark bathroom, thinking about all the germs that could've gotten into his open cuts. He spent another hour in the shower, crying even more. Talking about it might send him into another panic. 

Richie must've seen it on Eddie's face, because his hand fell away from his chin, and instead slid to both sides of his face. "Bowers?" He mumbled, and Eddie nodded. Richie took a deep breath, and clenched his eyes shut. 

"Fuck, I'll kill him. Do you want me to? I will." Eddie winced as he shook his head. 

"No, you're too young to go to jail. Besides, he's not worth it." 

"He's not, but you are." His thumb swiped back and forth across Eddie's cheek. His breath hitched at Richie's words, the little flicker of hope sparked back up in him again. At a late hour, in the dim lighting of a bedroom, it was easy to drown in his feelings, and foolishly believe they were reciprocated. 

"That was the cheesiest fucking thing I've ever heard you say." 

Richie's lips spread into a smile, and he stepped forward to wrap his arms around Eddie. "Fuck you, I was trying to be nice." Eddie returned the embrace, pressing his face into Richie's shoulder with a grin. Though his entire body was throbbing, his heart soared. 

tell him tell him tell him tell him

Richie smelled like smoke and cologne. It was his usual comforting scent, which made Eddie feel safe after a very unsafe evening. One of Richie's hands came up and threaded his fingers through Eddie's hair. He hummed in content, leaning further into Richie. 

Richie tilted his head down, and pressed his lips to the top of Eddie's head. His glasses dug uncomfortably into his skull, but he didn't mind. "Are you okay?" Richie mumbled into his hair. Eddie gave a slight shake of his head, and bit his split lip to try and keep the tears at bay. Richie didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms tighter around him. 

"I came over because I thought you ditched me. I was just staring at the clock, waiting for you to climb through my window. When you didn't I just got this horrible feeling." 

Eddie sniffled, his words muffled by Richie's t-shirt. "Did seeing my bare ass cheer you up?" Richie's chest shook as he laughed, and Eddie's own lips parted as he let out a cackle of his own. Salty tears rolled past his lips, and he hadn't even realized he'd started crying. They left wet spots on Richie's shirt. 

"Yeah, Eds, it really did. Care to show me again?" Eddie laughed again as he pulled out of Richie's. His hands shoved against Richie's chest, who staggered back a step with a shit-eating grin. 

"The privilege of seeing my ass is a once in a lifetime experience." Eddie pulled open the drawers of his dresser, and dug out some pajamas, though he really wouldn't have minded staying naked with Richie. He made his way back over to his bathroom. Richie groaned. 

"Are you seriously still going to another room to put on clothes? I've seen it all now, Eduardo. There's no point. It's burned into my memory." Eddie shot him a look, and shut the bathroom door, hoping the red discoloration in his face could be attributed to the bruises and cuts on his skin, rather than his love-drunkenness. 

When he stepped back onto the carpet, Richie was still standing like a fucking creep in the center of his room. Eddie raised as eyebrow. "Are you just going to stand there all night?" He made his way over to his usual side of the bed, and pulled back the covers. 

Richie took a shuddering breath, and turned to face Eddie. He stopped turning down the covers, his smile fading off his face at his friend's serious expression. "What is it?" He asked, his voice blunt. The silence left him too many options, too many ways he could've fucked up their friendship in the minute it takes him to change clothes. 

"Why didn't you come to mine? After?" 

"After I got beaten to a pulp?" Richie's jaw clenched at his words, but he looked at the floor, and nodded. Eddie shifted on his feet, unsure of what to say. "I was going to after I cleaned myself up. Honest, I wasn't going to bail. I was just in a panic, because, well." He cut himself off, hoping Richie would get the memo. 

Yeah, he and Rich were best friends (and had been for a long time) but there were still some things he didn't want him to see. Things he knew would send him running for the hills without ever looking back. He couldn't take any more abandonment, especially not from the person he leaned on the most, probably too much. He wanted to save Richie that pain. 

"You still should've come over, or called me. I could've helped you, or--"

"No, you couldn't have." Eddie cut in. "There's nothing you could've done, trust me, it's better that I handled it alone," he assured. He joined Richie, both of them standing at the foot of his bed. 

Richie stared down at him with an indecipherable expression. It was somewhere between anger, tenderness, and the usual glint in his eye he had around Eddie. "I want to be there for you, Eds Spagheds. I don't want you to get hurt." His eyes scanned Eddie's face, and the blonde wanted to smother himself with a pillow. 

His heart pained in his chest at the knowledge that Richie loved him, but not in the way he wanted to be loved. 

"Don't call me that," was all Eddie could muster. His voice cracked, and it hurt to speak, but he got the message across. Richie's serious expression split into a small grin. He wrapped his arms around Eddie once again, and fell backwards on the bed. 

Eddie's teeth jammed into Richie's chest as they bounced. He landed on top of Richie, who moved them both further up the bed. "What the fuck are you doing?" Eddie exclaimed, and tried to squirm off of Richie, who's hands flew to his hips. 

"We used to sleep like this all the time, remember? Right after that summer?" Eddie stared down at Richie, blinking slowly. Of course he remembered, he remembered every night they spent like this. He was shocked Richie did, too. He took Eddie's silence as permission to continue speaking. "You've had a rough night, I've had a rough night because you've had a rough night, and I think we should sleep like thi--" 

"Zach asked me out," Eddie blurted. He hated the guilt mounting inside of him the past few weeks. He hated not being able to tell Richie everything. He figured this wouldn't make Richie angry, or upset with him. So he told him. "Tonight, at the diner. Before Bowers, he told me he liked me." 

Richie stared up at him with wide eyes. His face drained of color, his fingers on Eddie's hips tightened. Eddie tried not to think about how big they were.

"Oh," Richie replied, his voice a squeak before he cleared his throat. "Okay." They stared at each other in shocked, tense silence. "What did you say?" 

Eddie glanced down at Richie's neck, unable to hold eye contact. He wanted to kiss the pale skin, press his lips to the junction where his neck and shoulder met. "I said no." 

He felt Richie exhale. The tight hold on his hips relaxed, and Richie's head fell back as he stared at the ceiling. "Why? I thought you liked Zach." 

Eddie shook his head. "I wish I could, I just don't feel anything for him." He paused. "And after tonight I don't know if I can. Not just for him, but for any boy here. Not until I'm in college, somewhere without Bowers and his stupid fucking cunty gang." 

Lies. All lies. 

tell him tell him tell him tell him

Richie's arms circled around his back, and held him tighter. "Fuck Bowers, and his cunty gang. Be whoever you want." 

This touched Eddie. After Richie's first reaction to him having "sex" with a boy, he wasn't sure if he had an issue with him being gay. But as he grew older, he understood how irrational that fear had been. He didn't care, at all. Last year he'd come out to the Losers as bisexual, and had even hooked up with a few guys as well. 

He never had an issue with Eddie being gay, he just wanted to protect him from being taken advantage of, and that's why he acted out. 

Eddie's hands slid up Richie's arms (he really couldn't help himself), and found Richie's glasses. Richie's lips parted as Eddie slid his glasses off his face, and leaned over him to set them on his nightstand. 

He hovered over Richie. His dark curls hung around his face erratically, and Eddie's hair no doubt looked just as messy. His cheeks flushed, his lips a deep pink in the minimal light. He found himself leaning closer, his forearms against the mattress on either side of Richie's head. The arms around his back tightened. 

kiss him kiss him kiss him don't kiss him

With a slight groan, which he hoped seemed out of pain instead of lust, he let his head fall to Richie's shoulder. Richie's chest stuttered underneath him, his grip relaxing a bit. His knees fell to Richie's hips, and he tried to relax. His eyes fluttered shut, the rhythm of Richie's breathing lulled him to sleep. 

***

It was Friday night, and Eddie was at a party he didn't want to be at. 

Though his injuries mostly healed, he was left with a few fading bruises he still had to hide from his mother. This forced him to avoid being home at all costs, which meant spending a lot more time with the Losers. Specifically Richie, who hadn't left him alone since the night they slept on top of each other in his room. 

Seriously, the only time Richie had let him out of his sight was when he had to go to class. He always found Richie waiting for him in the halls right after the bell rang, ready to swing his leather clad arm around his shoulders, and tease him. He walked them back to his car after school, took them back to his house to study instead of Eddie's room, where they usually worked. The past few nights, he'd go downstairs to eat dinner, and then come back to his room to find Richie on his comforter, nonchalantly reading a comic, like home invasion was normal.

It was both sweet, and infuriating. He needed a break from hiding his feelings, so for the first (and hopefully last) time in his life, he suggested the Losers all go to a party. 

They stared at up at him from where they sat on the floor of the clubhouse, mouths slightly agape. "Wait," Bill said, with a confused shake to his head. "You're suggesting we go to a party tonight?" Eddie nodded. "You, Eddie Kaspbrak, want to go to a party? Tonight?" 

"Yes, that's what I said, isn't it?" He snapped, and the six of them looked at each other. 

"Are you sure?" Bev asked, and Eddie rolled his eyes. 

"I'm in the mood to get fucking wasted. If you don't want to come, that's fine. I can go by myself, it's no big deal." 

Immediately, they began to protest, like Eddie knew they would. He tried to hide a victorious smile. 

"I'm down," Stan shrugged, and Richie scoffed. 

"Of course you are, Stan." 

"What does that mean?" 

"Nothing." Richie turned to face Eddie. "I'm in, too. Someone's got to look out for you. You're a handful when you're shitfaced, you know that?" 

"Fuck you, I am not!" Richie looked up at him in disbelief. 

"Yes, you are," Mike chided, and Eddie kicked at him as they snickered. Bill agreed next, and then Ben agreed because Bev said she wanted to go, and soon they all had a plan to go to this random kid's party on a Friday night. 

Which turned out to be a huge mistake. 

Eddie hovered in the shadows as he gripped a red solo cup filled with Sprite. From across the living room, he could see Richie playing beer pong, and doing surprisingly well. Landing balls in a cup wasn't really that impressive, and shouldn't have made Eddie so hot under the collar. But watching Richie make terrible jokes while tipping cans of beer back made him want to spill his guts, and tell his best friend that he wanted to be in his life forever. 

In the colored lights, he could see the sharp contour of Richie's jaw. The way his hands flexed around his can of beer, his loud, obnoxious voice carried to where Eddie was standing. God, he wanted him so bad. 

Stan and Patty were talking besides him, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Stan's hand inch lower on her back every few minutes, so he assumed he would be alone soon. He took another sip of Sprite, and wished he'd mixed a bit of vodka in it. 

"We're going to go, uh," Stan's sentence broke off as Patty attached her lips to his neck, and Eddie tried not to look as disgusted as he felt. He just nodded. They disappeared up the stairs in a flash, Stan leading Patty by her hand. He wished that was him and Richie, imagined how it would feel to hook up in a random person's bedroom with hundred of teenagers raging around them. 

Wandering hands, bitten skin, and tousled hair. 

"Eddie!" Someone shouted his name over the music. He jumped, and took his eyes off of Richie to turn. His eyes widened. 

"Wes," he stuttered. "What are you doing here?" 

Wes shrugged. "I know the host, got him a keg. You want some beer?" He gestured to the other room. Eddie prepared to say no, because he couldn't return home drunk. But from where he stood, he could perfectly see the front door. In walked Michelle, with her perfectly curled hair, and black mini skirt. She scanned the room, and Eddie knew she was looking for Richie. 

The hot, heady jealousy he was so familiar with returned.

Fuck it. 

"Yeah, I'd love some beer." He downed the rest of his Sprite, and followed Wes through the crowd. Wes reached back and grabbed his hand when they got separated, and Eddie's lips twitched into a smile before he forced it off his face as Bowers' words echoed through his brain. He detached their hands. 

Wes got him to the front of his line, and introduced him to all of his (hot) college friends. They greeted him, and handed him a cup. The four of them cheered, their plastic cups clinked together, then chugged the contents. Eddie still thought beer was the worst thing he ever tasted. However, very second that passed was another second closer to Richie and Michelle hooking up, so he demanded another cup. 

Four cups later, he was wasted. 

His shirt unbuttoned, and his hair dangled in his face as he and Wes continued to drink, cheering each other on, intertwining their arms like the bride and groom do at weddings. Even though the world blurred and his head ached, he had an attractive college guy coming onto him, and he hadn't thought about Richie once in the past two minutes. 

"Do you want," Wes broke into giggles in the middle of his sentence, and Eddie joined him. He leaned down to speak into Eddie's ear, his lips brushing his skin. "Do you want to get some fresh air?" 

Eddie nodded, and they crept out the front door. Most of the kids were either inside of in the backyard, only a few couples had resorted to making out on the front lawn. The two of them sat on the porch steps, passing a water bottle between the two of them. 

"How's college been?" Eddie slurred, and Wes grinned as he shrugged. 

"The usual. Chem is kicking my ass, though." Eddie smiled, and looked at the street. Richie aced chemistry, since he had a stupid fucking math-inclined brain. "So, how'd you get those bruises?" 

"What bruises?" Eddie asked. Wes raised an eyebrow, and Eddie pointed to his face. "Oh, you mean these? I joined a gang."

"Oh, did you?" 

Eddie hummed as he nodded. "I did." 

"Isn't that a little dangerous?" 

"All in a day's work." 

Wes smiled for a moment, but it faded into pity. "Some older kids caught you, didn't they?" Eddie pursed his lips, and looked down at the ground for a moment before he nodded his head. 

"It was so fucking stupid. I wasn't even doing anything gay! Literally just went to a shitty diner with a friend, and got beat up for it." Eddie shook his head, and Wes moved a few inches closer to put a comforting arm around him. 

"Don't listen to them." 

Eddie scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "Great advice. My doubts are cured." 

Wes sighed, and leaned his body against Eddie's. He shushed him, and placed his pointer finger to Eddie's lips. Normally, Eddie would've bitten it off, but he was shitfaced. "I mean that there is so much world out there to see. Derry is just the tiniest blip on the map. Don't let some cunt who doesn't understand you keep you from living however you want. In a few years you'll be doing so well you won't even remember what he said to you." 

Eddie blinked, his drunk brain slow to comprehend what Wes just said. "But how do you know? What if I get stuck here?" 

Wes' face moved close, the tip of their noses brushed. Eddie could smell the booze on him, as well as his cologne. Wes stared into his eyes. "Because I know you, Eddie. No one like you could get trapped in a town like this." 

If Eddie were just a little more drunk, he would've told Wes he loved him. Instead, he just closed the gap between them. 

He could pretend Wes' lips belonged to someone else. When he brought his hands up to pull of his hair, he could imagine dark curls instead of the brown ones in between his fingers. And when he felt hands wrap around his waist and pull him closer, he imagined they were a little bigger, and had chipped nail polish on the fingernails. He groaned into the wet slide of their lips. 

But then the pressure was gone. His eyes slowly opened, confused at the sudden loss of contact. Eddie looked up when he heard fist collide with bone, and a strangled shout. He swayed after he jumped to his feet, the concrete spinning beneath him. 

Richie clutched Wes' shirt collar with white knuckles, and slammed him into the side of the house. Blood poured from both of their noses, Richie's glasses knocked askew on his face as he shouted. Eddie could make out the veins in his neck, even in the dim porch lighting. "Stop," he mumbled. His voice came out weak, mangled in the wind. He tried to repeat himself a little louder, and climbed the steps. 

Eddie couldn't hear what Wes said, but he could see the smirk on his face as he muttered something to Richie, who pulled his fist back. Eddie caught his elbow, and tried to yank him away. Richie's frame was much bigger than Eddie, and all those hours spent lugging band equipment really caused him to put on a few pounds of muscle. Eddie's tiny hands barely fazed him. 

But he knew Richie heard him. He did that sometimes, when he was really mad at Eddie. They'd get into a fight, and no matter how loudly Eddie talked, Richie would just pretend like he couldn't hear him. He knew it made Eddie's blood sizzle, and his fists clench at his sides. 

"Stop!" Michelle cried from somewhere in the crowd. Eddie hadn't even realized people had gathered around them. "Stop! He knows me, he'll listen to me." Her heels clicked against the wood, and she tried to worm herself between Wes and Richie. "Hey, babe, listen," She reached up to touch him, but he shrugged her off, landing another hit Wes' nose. Eddie winced. "This isn't you, Rich. I know you, this isn't who you are." 

Eddie decided he was way too drunk for this shit. He sighed, threw his hands up in the air, and sat on the porch steps. 

What a shame it would be to let the rest of his beer go to waste. 

"What the fuck is going on?" The rest of the Losers (minus Stan and Patty) stumbled in front of Eddie, who just shrugged. 

"Richie got into a fight. Michelle has it handled." He couldn't fight the bitterness out of his voice. Bev gave him a pointed look, before she brushed past him. Ben followed, leaving Bill, Mike, and Eddie a few feet away from the carnage. 

"Holy fuck," Bill stuttered. "Is that Wes?" 

"Yeah." Eddie dusted some dirt off of his shorts. 

The three of them winced as someone landed another punch, but Eddie couldn't be bothered to see who it was. "So, I'm guessing Richie found out?" 

Eddie shrugged again. "Maybe. He saw us kissing." 

"Oh shit." 

"You should try to stop them." 

"I did," Eddie said pointedly. "He didn't listen to me. Besides, I don't give a fuck. If anyone can stop him, it's you Mike. Use those big baseball muscles to beat both of their asses." Mike and Bill shared a look, before Mike sighed and bounded up the steps. 

Eddie turned over his shoulder to watch Mike try and break up the fight. Wes was on top of Richie, who was jeering up at him, placing hit after hit onto his body. Seeing Richie get hurt like this made Eddie want to cry. He wanted to throw Wes off of him, grab some bandages, and clean his friend up, but he knew he couldn't. He didn't know the magnitude of Richie's anger. 

Mike had enough. "Knock it the fuck off!" He shouted. Eddie's eyes widened, as he'd never heard Mike speak so loud. It seemed to faze Wes and Richie too, because they both paused their grappling to look up at him. Mike grabbed the back of Wes' shirt, and hauled him up. "Go." He flicked his head to the house and Wes brushed his hands off before he turned to face Eddie. 

"Come on Eds, let's go." 

"You don't get to fucking call him that," Richie snarled from the ground. Wes didn't pay him any attention. 

Eddie's legs trembled as he stood. He stared down at Richie, trying to make a decision. 

Wes made him feel good, wanted. At least with him, his feeling were returned. 

Richie just made him want to rip his hair out.

Eddie sighed, and cursed himself. "I think I'm gonna stay here with Rich, sorry. And don't call me Eds." He heard Wes scoff, and shout some obscene thing at him, but he was only paying attention to Richie as he approached him. He held out his hand, and Richie took it. 

He slung Richie's arm around his shoulder, and prayed Michelle wouldn't follow them into the guest bathroom. "You gonna be my knight in shining armor, Senor Eds?" Richie slurred, and Eddie shook his head. 

"Don't fucking talk, you'll make it worse." He shut the bathroom door, which muffled the music. The bass rattled the bones of the house, and he helped Richie onto the sink, where he leaned back against the mirror. He winced as the faucet dug into his skin. 

Eddie realized there was a height problem when he only came up to the middle of Richie's chest in their position. "God dammit," he cursed. 

"They might have a step stool under the sink, did you check there?" 

"Fuck you, asshole." He checked under the sink, and sighed in relief when there was one. He unfolded it, stepped up, then pressed a wet rag to Richie's face. He worked in silence, ignoring the way Richie's eyes traced every freckle. "You're so stupid," he mumbled softly after Richie winced. 

"I know," was his reply. They lapsed back into silence. Richie's chest still heaved up and down, and he trembled under Eddie's fingers. Eddie's eyes flicked up to Richie's when his bruised knuckles found Eddie's hips, and pulled him further between his legs. Their faces were too close for comfort. Even in the dark lighting of the bathroom, Richie looked vulnerable. "Do you like him?" He whispered, and Eddie frowned, focusing on a painless way to wipe the blood off his lips. 

"We'll talk about it later." 

"That's not a no." Richie's fingers started tapping at his hips. "So you are in love with him." 

Eddie snorted. "I'm not fucking in love with him, you're always jumping to conclusions." 

"Is this what you've been keeping from me these past few weeks? The fact that you've been hooking up with someone-"

"We just kissed, it's not-" 

"He's in college, Eddie!" Richie cried, and Eddie took a deep breath, clenching the blood stained rag in his fist. This is why he never told Richie about his hookups, because he'd always find some way to make Eddie feel like he should regret his decisions. 

"We were wasted, Richie. We only kissed once on the porch. It's not like he fucking proposed. The moment was ruined, anyways." 

Richie scoffed. "I'm so sorry I ruined your chance with a predatory college kid." 

Eddie clenched his jaw, and threw the rag down. "You know what? I think Michelle would be better at this. I'm going to go find her." 

Richie's eyes widened for a moment, before they narrowed. "Yeah, I think you should." He slid off of the counter, and right into Eddie's space. He craned his neck back to stare up at the dark haired boy. 

Despite their size difference, Richie rarely intimidated him. But now, trapped with his blood soaked friend in a tiny bathroom, he looked dangerous. His stare seared through Eddie, and shook him to his core. He swallowed, his flare of attitude vanished. Richie rubbed at his eyes. "You're always running, it's so fucking exhausting to watch. Just when things get difficult, you go and get someone else to do the job instead. Don't you get tired of it? Needing other people to do everything for you?" Eddie stared up at him with wide eyes, his harsh words caused his eyes to prick. 

Richie hummed, and brought his hands up to cup Eddie's face. His nails crusted with blood, and his knuckles split open, but Eddie couldn't flinch away. "Don't cry, baby," Richie's voice was low as he brushed his thumb back and forth across Eddie's cheek. He used his grip on Eddie to pull him into his chest, just like the embrace they shared last night. Eddie didn't return it. 

"I'd never let anyone hurt you, you know that?" He mumbled, and Eddie tensed in his arms. "If that means I have to fight a few college kids, then fine." 

Eddie squirmed, and worked his hands up to Richie's chest to shove him away. He made a shocked noise as his back hit the wall. "Fuck you," Eddie seethed. "This is what I meant when I said you act like my mother! You know why I like Wes so much? He doesn't treat me like I'm going to break. He lets me make my own fucking decisions, and doesn't berate me for them, unlike you." Richie rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms in front of his chest, unfazed by Eddie's words. So he kicked it up a notch. 

"I know you're fucked up because of what happened, and I've tried to be there for you. I let you come over, I'd sneak into your room so you wouldn't have to sleep alone, I laughed at all your god awful jokes, hoping that it would help you move the fuck on so one day you wouldn't need me so goddamn much." Eddie paused to take a deep breath, and Richie took it as a chance to interject. 

He let out a bitter laugh. "So that's what that was, the past three years. I was your charity case?" 

Eddie pointed at him. "Do not fucking turn this conversation on me." 

"But that's what you said," Richie yelled as he threw his arms out in front of him. Eddie clenched the hem of his shorts in his fists. "You just said that the past few years of our friendship only existed because you felt bad for me." 

"And you said that I relied on other people too much!" 

does he even allow you to be your own person? 

Eddie remembered Zach's words from the other night. Maybe he was right. 

Their shouts echoed around the silence of the bathroom when they finally decided to think before they spoke. They glared at each other. Tense, and hungry. Blood still gushed from Richie's nose when he parted his lips to say something, but a loud knock at the door cut him off. 

"Rich? Are you in there?" 

Fucking Michelle. Eddie swiveled on his heel, and swung the door open. "Oh, hi Eddie, is Richie-"

"Yeah," is all Eddie said before he brushed past her. Really, he felt like a bitch for being mean to Michelle. She was nice, and never did anything to wrong him, besides sleeping with the boy he was in love with. But that wasn't exactly her fault. So, before he got completely swallowed by the crowd in the hall, he turned back to her. "He needs you." Her brows furrowed, but he didn't stick around long enough to see what she did next. 

He snuck back through his bedroom window, sobered by all the fighting that occured in the past two hours. He wasn't exactly sure when he had started crying, but by the time he collapsed on his sheets, hot tears rolled steadily down his cheeks. He reached under his mattress, where he hid his journal, and bit the cap of his pen off with his teeth.


	5. i'm so mad at him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so mad at him  
> Madder than I've ever been  
> And this time, yeah, this time  
> I'm gonna leave him  
> I'm So Mad At Him//Kelsy Karter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the girls are fightiiiinnngg
> 
> I apologize about any typos, my brain decided to stop functioning.
> 
> Extra warning, Richie is really mean/emotionally manipulative in this chapter. Please be warned, he ain't nice in this one.

Eddie decided he hated Richie.

The trauma from that sticky summer still oozed like rotten honey over his freckled skin, but he couldn't pinpoint another reason the two of them were still friends. They bickered constantly, always calling each other brutal nicknames. Richie never listened to him, and always got him into trouble with his mother. His untamed curls were so fucking annoying, and he was shit at painting his nails, so they always looked horrible. Eddie definitely did not imagine them wrapped around his waist, tugging him close. He was already way too familiar with the feeling of Richie pulling his hair, the pleasurable being in his roots. Dirty, disgusting, and vile. Plus, Richie never shut the fuck up.

And what did he give Eddie, really? Sometimes it felt like Eddie would carve his own heart out of his chest with a dirty fork should Richie ask him to. His devotion frightened him, especially because he knew it was unrequited. He had pointless flirtatious remarks, meaningless to Richie. Something he did for fun, and that was the problem. It was just fun, and Eddie was in love with him.

Zach had a point, Eddie realized. Richie didn't like Eddie for his personality, he just liked having control over someone. Eddie stoked the flames of his ego, even as they scorched his skin.

So, fuck him. Eddie didn't need him anyways.

On Monday, he avoided the dark haired boy at all costs. Practically sprinted out of math class so Richie couldn't catch up to him, he ate lunch with Zach in the library, and walked home through the biting autumn air instead of letting Rich drive him home.

It felt like freedom. A whole day without Richie's grating voice, calling him 'Eds' or 'Eddie Spaghetti,' and no pinching fingers or dragging touches. Just steady breathing, and personal space. He built a house around himself, and settled into his new life.

But guilt started to seep through the cracks, a steady drip of water making him wonder how long this game could last. A reminder he built the foundation all wrong.

He caught Richie's eyes during math class on the Tuesday after that party. They were dark, not with anger, but confusion. Ornaments of purple bruises hung on his face, his split lip pulled between his teeth. Eddie turned back to the front of the classroom, and didn't move until the bell rang.

Eddie sank into the library chair with a sigh, rubbing his eyes for a moment before he pulled out his lunch, and his homework. He picked at his sandwich, but the churning in his stomach left little room for food. He scribbled down history notes, trying his best to focus on the scribble of his pencil rather than the need to crawl to Richie and apologize.

Because he wasn't going to do that. He had nothing to be sorry for. He fought to love his own life, and Richie kept holding him back. He reminded himself of this as he took a swig out of his water bottle.

When he heard the chair next to him scrape against the carpet, his shoulders tensed. His fingers paused their writing, and an icy liquid shot through his veins. It was Richie, he thought to himself. It had to be, and now I'm going to have to initiate a friendship break up.

He inhaled deeply, and looked up. Stan raised an eyebrow at him. "What the fuck is going on between you and Richie?" He slammed his sack lunch on the table, and pulled out an apple.

Eddie parted his lips to reply, but Stan cut him off. "I thought he was annoying before, but now he's insufferable. Always moping, and sighing. Jesus Christ, I'd give anything for him to just talk about something. Anything!" He took a bite of his fruit, and gave Eddie a curious glance.

Eddie just looked back at the table with a frown, tapping it with his fingers. "I'm not talking to him right now."

Stan scoffed. "Yeah, I gathered that. Why?" He implored, and Eddie felt that familiar spark of annoyance that drove him to do stupid, stupid things.

"Because I fucking hate him!" He snapped, slamming the cover of his textbook shut for dramatic effect. "He's always on my dick. Telling me what to do, like I'm not even my own person. I get enough of that from my fucking mother. I just couldn't take it anymore, and the night at the party was the last straw. If he wants to be my friend, he needs to have basic respect for me. And if he can't give me that, then good fucking riddance." His words came out punched and broken. Mostly because he ran out air towards the end of his speech, but he supposed the stinging in his eyes had a small part in the cracking of his voice.

Stan stared at him with widened eyes. He blinked, lips opening and closing as he searched for the right words to say. He finally just sighed, and shut his eyes for a moment. "I can't say I don't understand where you're coming from," he began slowly. "But have you talked to Richie about this?"

Eddie's laugh sounded bitter. "Richie? Having an adult conversation?" He rolled his eyes with a slight shake of his head. "He'd just call me a pussy and tell me to get over it. It'd be a waste of time."

"You've been friends your whole lives, I think he deserves-"

"What about what I deserve?" Eddie cut him off, unwilling to compromise. His fingers trembled, partly from anger, and fear.

Stan moved his chair closer, and took Eddie's hand in his. "I just think that if you're going to end whatever the fuck you two had going on, you need to do it the right way."

"You're not going to try to stop me?"

"Do you want to know what I think?"

"No."

"I think you should tell him what you just told me. Give him a chance to apologize, and if he doesn't, then figure out where to go from there."

tell him tell him fuck him tell him

Eddie bit his lip. "Okay. I need to do this the right way. We can still co-exist, right? With the rest of the Losers? We'll be civil."

Stan returned a doubtful look, but Eddie ignored it. He settled back in his seat, and checked his watch. Fifteen minutes until lunch ended. He had plenty of time to solve this issue. He stood, but Stan caught his wrist. "You're not going to do it now, are you?"

Eddie gave him a confused frown. "Yeah? When else would I do it?"

Stan lowered his voice, eyes darting around to the other students. "Maybe somewhere more private?"

Eddie shook his head. "It'll be worse if we're alone. He'll behave himself if we're in public."

Another doubtful look from Stan, but Eddie had high hopes. Nothing bad would happen. He'd end his friendship with Richie, and this time he'd be truly free. No guilt, and no fear.

He found Richie smoking under the bleachers. He snapped his neck up to look at Eddie when he heard his footsteps crunching the fallen leaves. Eddie stomach did the familiar flip routine, and he swallowed roughly. Richie exhaled a breath of smoke, and Eddie held back the cough.

"Listen, Richie. We need to talk."

Good start, Eddie mentally congratulated himself.

Richie glanced down at the grass. "I can't talk right now."

Eddie stood his ground. "You're just smoking. You can multitask."

Richie looked up at him with a squint. "Maybe I don't want to talk to you. You've been ignoring me since Sunday, and now you want to talk when it's convenient for you?"

Eddie bristled. This is exactly why he didn't want to do this, because he knew Richie acted so fucking difficult.

He assessed the situation, and tried to think of a way to keep the conversation in his power. He could feel it shifting in Richie's favor. So, he blurted, "We can't be friends anymore."

And Richie just tipped his head back, the shadows kissing his throat in exact the way Eddie longed to, and barked a laugh. Eddie fumed. "I'm serious," he stated. "What happened with Wes was-"

"Bullshit," Richie interrupted. "It was bullshit." Then, he titled his head, a patronizing look on his face. "Is that what this is about? My fight with Wes?" Eddie tried to respond, but Richie talked over him. "Because it wasn't even that bad. He was out of line."

"No, he wasn't."

"He was going to kiss you, you realize that, right? You would've made out with a fucking college kid, which is some weird ass bullsh-"

Eddie stomped over, ripped the cigarette from between his fingers, and stomped it furiously into the ground. Over and over, he drove the heel of his shoe into it, until the flames smothered out. Then, he tore the entire package out of the pocket of Richie's backpack, and dumped them onto the ground, where he proceeded to stomp on them again. Breathless, he pointed a finger in Richie's amused face.

"You're a dense fucking cunt, do you realize that?"

"Talk dirty to me, Eds, it really gets me going. Maybe you can teach your mother some skills, she needs some help in that department."

Eddie decided he fucking loathed Richie Tozier.

He craned his neck down to look Richie in the eye, and decided he would take pleasure in crushing his soul. "The reason your fight was so idiotic is because he and I have already kissed. You weren't preventing shit." Richie stared up at him in smiling disbelief. Eddie cranked it up a notch. "And not only have we kissed, but a few weeks ago I turned down a weekend with you to sneak into his dorm, get on my knees, and suck his dick. Not yours, his."

Richie's amused smirk faded slightly. Eddie lit up.

"We've already kissed, and done so much more, and you thought you could actually stop him and I from hooking up again! Fucking unbelievable," he sneered. "And you know what else? I—"

Eddie did not get a chance to finish his statement.

A hand wrapped around his ankle, and tugged. Eddie let out a pained yelp as he hit the ground, mind reeling at the sudden change in position as Richie crawled over him. "What the fuck are you doing?" He snapped, arms desperate to shove Richie away. "Get the hell off of me."

Richie grabbed his flailing wrists, and slammed them onto the grass next to his head. He leaned in close, and Eddie pressed himself back into the dirt. "Are you fucking joking?" He hissed, and a small part of Eddie wanted to go with it, and claim it was all a joke. Take the easy way out. But he couldn't fucking take it anymore.

"Bet you didn't know your innocent little puppet was such a whore, did you?" he taunted. Richie's eyes widened behind his glasses, before they narrowed down at him. He shifted his weight, pressing every inch of himself onto Eddie, who was just now realizing the compromising position he'd put himself in.

His skin burned, his hips pleaded to grind up. He'd been pinned by Richie before, when they'd wrestled in the hammock, or got rough with each other. But never with malicious intent behind it, unlike this moment. Richie's inflamed eyes seared into Eddie's face.

Eddie begged him to do something after seconds of tense breathing, their chests knocking together. But the heat in Richie's face lessened with each passing moment. His hands on Eddie's wrists loosened, but he made no move to seperate them. 

Eddie sighed. "Do you ever feel like we're too dependant on each other?" 

Richie frowned down at him, concerned. "What makes you say that?" 

Eddie would've shrugged if he wasn't pinned to the ground. He averted his gaze, cheeks burning. Richie huffed, and brought one hand up to grip his jaw, forcing Eddie to look at him. "You can't just say shit like that and not elaborate. Tell me what you're worried about." 

tell him tell him tell him tell him

"It's just..." Eddie shifted underneath his weight, and tried to ignore his aching need to press himself closer. He tried to ignore how good it felt to be held down, every inch pressed together. He attempted to regain focus. "I don't know. Sometimes it just feels like we're too close to each other." 

"We're best friends, Eddie. That's how it's supposed to be." 

Eddie's heart sunk at Richie's description of their friendship. They weren't just best friends, and they both knew it. But they never talked about it, and Eddie lost his mind. 

"That's the fucking problem!" he snapped. "We're best friends." 

Richie's face morphed into confusion. "What the fuck are you going on about? You're mad that we're friends?" 

Eddie wanted to die. How could he not understand what Eddie was saying? It seemed to obvious. He wrestled his wrists out of Richie's grip, surprised that Richie let him break free, before he shoved the taller boy off of him. 

"I'm mad that I don't have any fucking space!" 

Richie raised an eyebrow. "You want space? This sounds like a breakup." 

"That's exactly what this is." Eddie dusted the dirt off of his pants before he scrambled into a standing position. Richie followed, and Eddie's confidence withered as he craned his neck back to look him in the face. "It's not just what happened with Wes. It's the fact that we know everything about each other, and you just--you can't--" Eddie ran a hand through his curls, frustrated. "I just need to be my own person. And you need to understand that." 

Richie went silent. 

This meant Eddie royally fucked up. 

"You don't actually mean what you're saying, do you?" Richie drawled, crossing his arms over his chest, and taking a step towards Eddie, who tried to ignore every instinct telling him to run. Eddie swallowed at the crackling intensity in his tone. He was about to explain, when Richie interrupted him. "Because that's not how this works. You can't just decide an entire lifetime of friendship means nothing, and just cut me off from you." He reached forward, and gripped Eddie's arm. The fragile one. "I saved your fucking life, Eddie. Or have you forgotten?" 

Of course he hadn't forgotten. Every time he shut his eyes he was back in that house, his arm snapped, watching It slither close. The unshakeable feeling that he was about to die surrounded by dirt and grime. Stabs of pain rippling through his arm, until he felt rouch hands on his face, turning him away. The crack of his arm being put back in place, the tears brushed off his cheeks. The memory never left him. 

Richie had leaned in so close, Eddie could see the angry flush of his cheeks, and the hungry, hateful tint in his brown eyes. If he were to sway forward the tiniest amount, their noses would brush. He wanted the ground to open, and swallow him whole. 

Eddie realized this conversation maybe hadn't been the best idea. 

Eddie had no choice but to continue with his original intent. "So, because you saved my life that one time, I can't be my own fucking person?" 

Richie rolled his eyes. "You're so fucking dramatic." 

Eddie wanted to tear out of every strand of his hair. He stepped back to clear his head. "That's exactly what I mean! You don't fucking listen, even when I'm trying to tell you what's been bothering me. If you only saved my life to have something to hold over me, then you should've just fucking let me die." 

He used the shocked silence from Richie to escape. He swiveled on his heel, using his anger to propel him away. He yanked his backpack off the ground, slinging it on with a vengeance. He heard Richie call a loud "fuck you" over the distance, and Eddie threw a middle finger up into the air in response. 

He wanted to cry. But not a sad cry, an angry cry. The kind of crying you can only do out of embarrassment, out of realizing you'd been so fucking stupid. Eddie can't believe he ever thought Richie would fight to keep him in his life, he knew he shouldn't have talked to him. Stan was wrong, probably for the first time in his life. Eddie would point that out to him later. 

He burst through his front door, ignoring his mother's shocked yell. "Eddie bear, don't slam my door like that," she fussed, wobbling into the hallway as he brushed past her, eyes hot with tears. 

fuck him fuck him fuck him fuck him

He bounded up the stairs, rattling the frames on the wall. If his mother caught up to him, he wouldn't be able to hide anything from her, and she'd figure out just how dirty her little boy really was. He locked his bedroom door, sniffling when he heard her knock. Her calls went unanswered as he pulled open his drawers, and threw clothes onto the floor in search of his journal. 

He checked every drawer, and it didn't turn up. It wasn't under his mattress, or his pillow. It was in his bathroom, or hidden in a nook. His journal was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was seriously considering quitting this fic, but I received a lot of nice comments and messages from several people, so I decided I should finish it! Thank you so so much to anyone who reached out in some way, or left kudos on this work. Writing a fanfic has been much harder than I thought it would be, so. Sorry this one is a lot shorter than the others haha.


	6. entreat me not to leave you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your God, my God  
> Where you die, I will die  
> There will I be buried, the Lord do so  
> To me and more also   
> If ought but death parts you and me  
> Entreat Me Not To Leave You//Salt Lake Vocal Artists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last one!!!
> 
> Warning: Sonia is in this, so there's a lot of homophobia in this chapter

Richie and Eddie didn't talk for a month. 

They passed each other in the hall, sometimes. Richie always with Michelle under his arm, or some other poor kid that fell victim to him. Eddie always turned away with flushed cheeks, partly out anger, partly out of jealousy. 

Mostly, Eddie was just confused. He didn't understand Richie's actions, or why he cared so much about Eddie's life. He explained his confusion to Stan, who just sighed. "You really don't know?" He deadpanned with a raised eyebrow, and Eddie spread his arms out wide. 

"No! Do you know something I don't?" 

Stan blinked at him, an annoyed look on his face. It melted into an expression of exasperation, before he ran a hand down his face. "You two are so clueless, it's infuriating." 

"I'm clueless? You're dumbass 'just talk to him' plan is what got me into this mess! I would've been perfectly fine ignoring him for a few days, then getting over it, like I always do. Now I have to deal with this shit." 

Stan just sighed again, and stood. "I'm going to give you the same advice, and tell you to have a conversation with him. No yelling, just civilized conversation." 

"That's what I tried to do. I've just got to accept that Richie is incapable of being mature. If he wants to talk, then he can come to me. I'm done chasing after him." 

Stan nodded passively. "Good, good. Let me know how that goes." And then he was gone, and Eddie was left alone in silence. 

He hadn't realize how much of his days were filled with the loudness of Richie until that loudness was gone. He didn't thin he would miss it, but now he longed to be called a dumb nickname, or have someone pinch the skin on his thighs. Maybe he just had to accept those days were over, and they'd never be the same. 

Lunch remained tense as well. Sometimes, Beverly would pull Eddie to their table, and Richie would sit on the opposite end. Eddie could feel Richie staring at him, but whenever he met his gaze, he filled with anger all over again, so he ended up ignoring the prick of Richie's gaze. 

In his peripheral, he could see the other Losers casting sideways glances at each other. Eddie hated it, he just wanted to go back to being a little kid, when things were normal. No Wes, no Zach, no crush on Richie, no psychotic mother, and no demon clown. Just sandboxes, and fanny packs. He ached for that simpler time. 

Eddie laid on his back on top of his comforter. He'd pasted glow up stars to his roof, and tried to put them in the shape on a constellation, but it ended up just looking like a dick. And then he broke down in tears because his best friend (who he was painfully in love with) wasn't there to make a gross, perverted joke about it. 

He jumped when his window banged open, and choked on tears as he gasped at the intrusion. He pushed himself into a sitting position, watching with wide eyes as two arms pulled a body through his windowsill. 

He could just see Richie's silhouette, knew it was him by the way his glasses reflected the green light of the fake stars. Eddie daydreamed a whole speech, consisting of everything he wanted to say to Richie when they decided to speak again. But when his lips parted, his throat dried, and he focused on wiping the tears off of his salty cheeks before Richie could make fun of his for it. 

But Richie just kicked off his shoes, then stalked right up to Eddie, and pointed a finger in his face. "This has gone on for too fucking long." 

Eddie blinked up at him, his eyes struggling in the dark. He couldn't see any details, meaning he couldn't decipher Richie's expression. "Do you know how long it's been since we've talked?" 

A month and three fucking days. 

"A month and three fucking days." Richie took a step back, and brought both hands up to pull at his hair. "I've been losing my goddamn mind over you, Eddie. I've been going through every interaction, trying to figure out where I went wrong." His hands fell back to his sides, and he began to pace. "At first, I was so fucking pissed at you. But then I thought about it, and I saw where you were coming from." He paused his pacing, and Eddie tensed as he moved forward. Eddie felt the bed dip next to him, but it was the closest he'd been to Richie in so long, so he couldn't be compelled to move away. 

"I'm sorry, Eddie. I was a dick. I shouldn't have gotten into that pointless fight, and I shouldn't have blame it on you. I shouldn't have punched Zach way back freshman year, and I shouldn't have gotten upset with you for what happened with Ryan. I did a lot of things that I shouldn't have, and I wish I could take every one of them back. I don't want us to not be friends, Eds. I promise I won't get mad about that shit anymore, I just need you in my life. I can't take this radio silence anymore." 

Eddie sat, stunned. He'd never heard, nor expected Richie to be the first one to break. And he definitely didn't expect his apology to be so eloquent. Eddie swallowed, and searched for the right words to reply with. 

tell him tell him tell him tell him

"Don't call me Eds." Though Richie couldn't see his face, he grinned. He let out a surprised sound when Richie flung his arms around Eddie, and yanked him forwards into his chest. 

"Fuck. I missed you saying that," Richie breathed into his hair. His arms wound tight around Eddie, and he let himself move further into the embrace. The familiarity of it brought a whole new set of tears to his eyes as he clutched the back of Richie's old band shirt, and let his face fall into the crook of Richie's shoulder. His lips longed to press a kiss against the exposed skin. 

They sit in silence for god knows how long. Just holding each other, trying to make up for the time they lost. Richie pulled back slightly, and Eddie blushed at the displeased sound that slipped past his lips. "Come on," Richie whispered as he stood, taking both of Eddie's hands in his. He pulled the blonde to his feet, and guided them towards his window. "I want to take you somewhere." 

"Okay." Eddie agreed with no fight, too caught up in the high of having Richie back. He'd snuck out of his window a thousand times before, and this time was no different. They raced to his car, and Eddie berated Richie for being so slow. 

The radio filtered over them, and Eddie leaned his cheek against the windowsill as Richie drove. The cool air stung his face, but it pulled him back to Earth, so he didn't ask Richie to roll the windows up. 

The only time he lifted his head was when Richie's hand reached over the center console, and found his. Their fingers intertwined, Richie's thumb brushing against the back of Eddie's hand. Eddie turned to look at him, his heart leaping at the tender action. Richie just smiled the same fond smile he always gave Eddie, before turning back to the road. The streetlights casted on orange glow in the car, and Eddie settled back into his seat, the corners of his lips tugging up. 

But then he saw they were approaching the Quarry. 

"I'm not swimming in this weather, Richie. I'll get hypothermia." 

Richie turned the car off, and rolled his eyes. "You're not going to get a deadly illness from one skinny dipping experie--" 

"What the fuck did you just say? Skinny dipping? Hell no." Eddie exclaimed, and Richie breathed a laugh. 

"Just get out of the car." 

"Absolutely not." 

"Eddie my love, my spaghetti, please get out of the car." 

"Fuck no." 

Richie looked at him pensively, before he separated their hands, and slipped out of the car. Eddie watched him walk around the front, then yank his door open. He realized too late what Richie's plan was. He gripped his seatbelt with both hands, his knuckles white. "Unhand me!" He shouted as Richie tugged at him, and pulled him out of the vehicle. 

"Just trust me!" Richie shouted over his complaints. And, well, he was much bigger than Eddie. As much as Eddie hated (loved) it, he knew he stood no chance in a physical battle, so he went limp. "There we go," Richie cooed, and Eddie ignore the butterflies in his stomach. Richie's arm moved around Eddie's shoulders, and pulled him towards the slope, where they could walk down to the banks of the river. 

The moonlight basked over the dark curls in Richie's hair, turning it a dark blue in the night. The sky had never look clearer, the stars winked down at them as they moved towards the still water of the quarry. Richie stopped suddenly, and turned to Eddie. Eddie stared back. "What?" 

Richie just spun back around, and plopped himself down on a rock without another word. Eddie frowned for a moment, before following suit, trying not to get sand in his socks. He sat next to Richie, a few inches of hesitant space between them. 

Another stretch of comfortable silence. Eddie pulled his knees to his chest, and rested his chin on top of them as we watched the water. His eyes watered from the cold air, but he didn't mind. It felt good to be with Richie again. 

"Eddie," Richie spoke, and Eddi turned his gaze to him. He looked up at him through his eyelashes, and Richie stuttered for a moment before he let out an exasperated sigh. He flung himself off of the rock, and stood in front of Eddie. "I have something to tell you," he blurted. 

What the fuck? Eddie thought to himself with wide eyes. What could he possible have to say? 

Eddie drawled a slow 'okay,' and waited for Richie to continue. His heart thudded nervously in his chest, and he swallowed roughly as he watched his friend gather himself. 

"I just, um, not talking to you for over a month really, uh, wasn't...great." Richie stammered, and Eddie's face turned into confusion. 

"Yeah, it wasn't, but I thought we were over that." 

"We are," Richie said, rushed. "But it's just being apart for so long made me realize some things." 

"What things?" The wind chopped Eddie's voice into tiny pieces. Richie rubbed his eyes, the back of his hand pushing up his glasses. Then, he was digging into his jacket, and pulled a book out. 

Eddie's journal. 

Eddie's heart dropped out of his ass as his face went pale, and his limbs froze. 

"I'm sorry, Eddie. I shouldn't have taken it. But you weren't telling me anything, and then we weren't talking at all, so I just had to do something." 

Eddie didn't reach for it, just stared at the leather cover. "Did you read it?" He finally asked after several moments of tense quiet. Richie shook his head. 

"I didn't, I swear. I've been trying to find a subtle way to give it back, but I figured I should just tell you." Relief swelled in Eddie, and he gingerly took his journal back. Their fingers brushed, and Eddie jerked his hand back like he'd been burned. He set it onto the rock next to him. Richie watched his movements, lip caught between his teeth.

"Is there anything else you need to give back to me? Maybe my Social Security card? Or--"

"There's one more thing," Richie interrupted. Eddie moved his hand in a gesture to go on. Richie nodded, and averted his eyes to the ground. After a solid minute passed, and he still hadn't said anything, Eddie huffed. 

"Come on, Richie. Spit it out." 

"Just give me a minute, Eds." Richie's fingers yanked through his hair, before he clenched his eyes shut, and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes again, stammered out a few syllables, before he sighed again. "Oh, fuck it," Richie mumbled. Then, he surged forward, gripped Eddie's face in his hands, and kissed him. 

Eddie's eyes widened, and his lips parted in shock. Richie was kissing him. What the fuck? 

Richie's lips moved against his, his fingers dug into his face in desperation. Their teeth knocked together, and when Richie's tongue swiped against Eddie's bottom lip, he was finally shocked into moving. 

He wormed his hands up to Richie's chest, and shoved him back. "What the hell?" he cried, and stood as Richie staggered a few steps. They both looked at each other, shocked. Eddie couldn't do anything but repeat a quieter, "what the hell?"

"I love you," Richie blurted, and Eddie's legs nearly gave out from underneath him. Richie took another step forward, and Eddie tensed. "I always have." 

Eddie shook his head. "No, you don't." 

"Eds." 

"No! This is a joke." Eddie's eyes cut through the darkness, trying to find the taunting smile Richie always wore when teasing Eddie. But it was nowhere to be found. Eddie gave him a lost look. Richie's, for the first time, looked vulnerable. He shrugged, a nervous tilt to his lips.

"Can't help it, Eddie spaghetti. I just didn't want there to be anymore secrets between us." 

"I never had sex with Zach," Eddie abruptly confessed, and Richie stared back at him in bewilderment. 

"What?" 

"Zach and I. We just kissed once, for like two seconds. That's it. I just told you we fucked to make you mad." Eddie felt the weight of that lie lift off his shoulders, and Richie blinked at him. 

"Well, it worked." 

"I fucking know it worked." 

"Do any of the other Losers know?" 

"Stan." 

Richie rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Stan doesn't count. He always knows everything." 

The conversation hung heavy in the air. Eddie's wanted to press their lips together again, his tongue itched to tell Richie he loved him back, but the fear and doubt in his mind kept him from acting on any of his impulses. He drew a picture in the sand with the toe of his shoe, blushing under Richie's stare. 

"So." Richie was in his space again, Eddie's face level with his chest. Eddie glanced up at him, but his wanting gaze was too much for Eddie to handle, so he looked away again. But Richie caught his chin, and tilted his face up. "I have to know, Eddie. If you don't, then that's fine, we can just pretend this never happened." 

"You're being serious?" 

"Dead serious." 

Eddie wished he could recite an entry in his journal, where he'd written so many confession speeches. In a perfect world, he would have all the right words to say. But he was at a loss, so he just tilted his face up, and slotted their lips together again. 

Richie kissed him back immediately, his arms sliding around his waist and pulling them flush together. Eddie parted his lips, and Richie's tongue swiped into his mouth. He sighed, and leaned further into him, his fingers yanking on Richie's curls. Richie groaned, his grip around Eddie tightening. 

Warmth spread through Eddie as a thick fog seeped through his mind, forcing him into lightheadedness. His lungs burned, but the pressure against his lips was more important than air. Richie bit at his lower lip, and if it weren't for Richie's hold on him, he would've collapsed. 

Eventually, they had to pull away. Their chests heaved, and they stared at each other's flushed faces. "Does this mean you..." Richie raised and eyebrow, and Eddie nodded. 

"Yeah." 

Richie's mouth was back on his again, harder than before. His fingers tangled in Eddie's hair, and they staggered back from the force of it. Eddie tried to keep up with Richie's desperate movements, his hands grasping onto the front of Richie's shirt. 

He felt the rough surface of the rock hit his back as Richie laid him down, one hand by the side of his head, and the other at the hem of his t-shit. He separated their lips, and breathed, "can I take this off?" 

"Yes," Eddie gasped, and then his shirt was being thrown on the sand. He frowned at it, prepared to tell Richie to pick it up and fold it, but then they were kissing again and it didn't matter. Richie rested his weight against Eddie, his hips pinning him down. His hand slid up and down Eddie's bare waist, and Eddie squirmed underneath him. An aching heat spread through him, and he raised his hips to meet Richie's without thinking. 

The boy above him groaned, and pulled away. "Fuck, Eds." His lips found Eddie's neck, and Eddie let his eyes fall shut at the feeling of Richie's tongue against his skin. He felt his teeth scrape against his neck, and he arched up, and quiet moan passing his lips. His fingers tugged at the shirt on Richie's shoulders, and Richie got the memo. He straightened, grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked it over his head before falling right back down, and pressing them together again. 

They continued like that, until Eddie's jaw was sore from how roughly Richie was gripping it, and his lips burned with every slide. Their hips met again, and he gasped. It was almost too much, but he didn't know how he could stop. He throbbed, and grinded them together again. It felt good, better than anything Eddie had ever felt before. He stammered out Richie's name when the boy on top of him set a steady pace with his hips. 

"You alright, baby?" Richie sighed into Eddie's ear, and the blonde stammered out a 'yes.' The pleasure built inside of him, and then consumed him. Richie stiffened above him, and then rolled onto his back beside him. They panted, the chilly weather not enough to cool the heat of their skin. 

Richie turned his head to look at Eddie. Eddie felt the disgusting stickiness of his jeans, and burst out laughing. His shoulders shook, and Richie joined in. Any passerby's would've surely thought the two of them were possessed, but it didn't matter because no one else existed but the two of them, laughing together on a rock in the middle of the night. 

***  
Months passed, every day filled with leather clad arms slung around Eddie's shoulders, or his waist. Glasses indented into his skin when Richie sloppily presses kisses to Eddie's cheeks, among other places. Every so often, Richie convinces Eddie to skip class with him. They spend the period underneath the bleachers, with wandering hands, and hot skin. 

But Eddie can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. 

Spring approaches, and with it college. Which means sneaking around his mother, trying desperately to find somewhere far from Derry where she can't sink her claws into him. It feels like the key rests just a few inches outside of his cage. He can feel his fingers brush against it. but his arm isn't quite long enough yet. 

Richie's going to UCLA for school. He's known it since a kid, got accepted last December. It's the only school he applied too, though Eddie pushed him to try for more. But Richie just pinched his cheek, and wrote him off. 

Underneath his mother's nose, Eddie applied to a school in at least fifteen states. Anywhere but Maine. He toyed with the idea of California in his head. Constant exposure to sun, resulting in skin cancer. Sand everywhere. But Richie would be there, with his shitty impressions and taunting nicknames. With his calloused fingers, and familiarity. 

Eddie thought he wanted to go to UCLA, but then his NYU acceptance letter came in. He couldn't get the idea out of his head. 

He could see Richie in California, with his outgoing personality and big ideas. But Eddie never quite fit into the picture. A puzzle piece accidentally swept into the wrong box. He could, however, see himself in New York. 

In the bustle of the city, he'd never be alone, at least not like he felt in Derry. Sure, the rent would be expensive, and the overflow of people would mean germs on every surface, but he could feel it pulling him. Grey skies, dirty streets, and acceptance. His mother would hate it. 

He daydreamed about moving to the city all the time. 

Even laying on Richie's bed on a summer night, skin to skin, Richie's arm slung around his shoulders. His fingers squeezed a joint, and Eddie watched him lazily raise it to his mouth. He focused on the way his lips wrapped around it, and the feeling of his chest as he inhaled. Richie glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "You want a hit?" 

Eddie wrinkled his noise, and shook his head. Richie grinned, and sat up a bit. "Aw, come on. A bit of weed won't kill you." 

"When there's enough scientific information to prove that, I'll take you up on your offer." 

Richie's smile remained plastered on his face, and he didn't push it further. In his smoke filled room, Eddie stared up at the ceiling fan, tapping his fingers against Richie's chest. He chewed on his bottom lip, each pained beat of his heart pulling him in two different directions. 

He couldn't leave Richie, he just couldn't. When growing up, Eddie pictured his entire life with his best friend. Guilt swarmed him whenever his excitement sparked, ashamed to be hopeful at the idea of moving where Richie wouldn't be. 

And the fear, too. The fear that no one would know him as well as Richie does, that no one will care for him in the same way. No one will ruffle their fingers in his hair, or pinch his cheeks, or make up annoying (cute) nicknames for him. No one will put in the effort Richie does, and Eddie's throat closed at the thought. He'd just always had Richie to fall back on, what would he do without that safety net? 

"Eddie?" Dazed, he looked up at Richie, who stared down at him with a frown. 

"Sorry, what?" Eddie blinked, and rubbed at his eyes to get rid of his intrusive thoughts. He needed to enjoy the little time he had left in this nasty ass bedroom. 

"Are you okay? You've been kind of spacy tonight." 

"Must be the second hand smoke." 

"Fuck you." Richie shoved him, but it lacked any force. Eddie faked a scandalized gasped, and pushed him back, a little harder than he meant to. Richie's eyes lit, always excited for a chance to wrestle. 

He grabbed Eddie's wrists, and yanked him forward. Eddie yelped as he almost collided with Richie's chest, and glared up at him playfully, telling him to 'quit it' in between laughter. But he didn't mean it, and Richie knew that. 

The back of his hands hit the mattress as Richie intertwined their fingers, pressing his knees into Eddie's hipbones. Their chests knocked together as they heaved with flushed faces, the smiles on their faces slipping the longer they stared at each other. 

"Eds, you can tell me anything, you know that right?" Richie lowered his voice, leering down at Eddie earnestly. Eddie squirmed under his intense gaze, and turned his red cheeks away. He sighed, a bullet of annoyance in his chest aimed at how Richie could always tell when something was off with him.

"Yeah, I know." He flicked his eyes back to Richie's. "I guess I'm stressed about college." It wasn't a lie, but not a whole truth either. 

"Have you committed to UCLA yet?" Richie asked from above him, letting his weight fall on Eddie a little more. Eddie parted his lips (to lie) but knew there was nothing he could say. So, he just pressed his hips up into Richie's, and tried to distract him. 

"There's other things I want to do than talk about college." 

Richie's eyes widened, and he spluttered a laugh. "Eddie Spaghetti, have I corrupted you? Always thinking about sex, you are." He leaned in close, and Eddie sighed as their lips pressed together. 

It'd been months since their first kiss, and the fog that clouded his mind never grew clearer. His lips parted under Richie's, his skin aflame. He bucked his hips up again, tightening his fingers around Richie's as he licked his tongue into Eddie's mouth. 

The wet slide of their lips didn't stop as Richie's hands moved from Eddie's wrists to the sides of his face, his thumbs swiping against his cheeks. Eddie's eyes opened at the action, a warm feeling spread through his chest at the thoughtful action. He squeezed his eyes shut again, trying not to let his mind wander. 

With regained control of his hands, he threaded his fingers into Richie's hair, and tugged him back. He gasped in breath, or tried to at least, as Richie moved to his neck. He groaned as he felt teeth snag his skin, before they were replaced with Richie's lips. Their hips met again, throbbing with need. It was never enough, whatever they did, they could never get close enough. 

Richie hovered over Eddie, and they panted into each other. Eddie couldn't focus on anything but Richie's red, bitten lips. He'd waited years and years to be able to do this. He used his grip in Richie's hair to tug him back down, their mouths meeting at a pained pressure. Their teeth knocked together, but it seemed to spur Richie on. 

He planted his hands on either side of Eddie's head, and set a rhythm with their hips. He cursed into Eddie's ear, his voice a low whimper. Eddie couldn't do much but gasp in response, and try to meet his hips. Anytime a course of pleasure ran through him, it was counteracted with images of him in New York. The guilt ran straight to his dick, and soon the pleasure disappeared, his eyes shot open, and his hands shoved at Richie's chest as he muttered a mangled 'stop.' 

Both breathing heavily, Richie stared at him in concern. "What happened? What's wrong?" His voice sounded panicked as he scanned Eddie's body. Eddie just slung his legs over the bed, and yanked on his shirt. "Did I do something?" 

Eddie shook his head, and slid on his socks with trembling fingers. "No, no. You're fine, you didn't do anything wrong. I just, um--" 

tell him tell him tell him tell him

He paused to look at Richie. His sharp cheekbones, flushed in the yellow glow of the fairy lights lining his bed frame. His shorts, disheveled on his hips, the way his messy black curls brushed against the top of the frame of his stupid, annoying, thick glasses. Eddie tried to commit every freckle, every line in his chapped lips, every color in his eye to memory. He stood, and raked a hand through his hair. 

"I need to get home. I need to talk to my mom about college." 

Richie frowned. "Now? I thought you weren't going to tell her at all." 

Eddie shifted on his feet. "I wasn't, at first, but I've thought about it and I figured I should." When he met Richie's gaze, he turned defensive. "She's my mom, Rich." 

"She's a bitch. Do you remember what she did to you?" 

"Of course I do, I fucking lived it," Eddie exclaimed. Richie rose to his feet, and Eddie hated (loved) the way he had to crane his neck back to look up at him. 

"Then why are you giving her the chance to stop you again? I know you, Eddie. The second she knows, she's gonna sink her claws into you, and you're never going to get out of this place." 

Eddie's face crumpled at the thought, and though he knew Richie was right, he hated it. Hated how powerless he felt about everything. His love for Richie, his love for his mother. "I just want her to know. Maybe she'll be different." 

Richie gave him an incredulous look through his eyelashes. Eddie stumbled back towards his window. "I'll see you tomorrow," he mumbled as he turned to slide the window up. A hand caught his elbow. 

"Hey," Richie caught his attention. Eddie pursed his lips, and turned to face him. Richie cupped each side of his face, and tilted his chin up to look at him. "Remember our plan? In a few weeks, we'll run away. Say goodbye to the Losers, and leave this cunt of a town in our rearview." 

Eddie stared up at him, eyes wide. Their plan sounded so good to him earlier, but now it left a bad taste in his mouth. He nodded his head, and rose onto his tip toes. This kiss was gentle, just a few seconds. But Eddie savored it, another thing for him to commit to memory. "I'll see you later, Rich." He slid out of the window, down the tree, and onto Richie's front lawn. 

He could hear the television as he stepped into his house. He locked the front door behind him, and sent a quick prayer up to God. He hadn't prayed since the clown, but he figured if there was any time to do it, it was tonight. "Eddie bear, is that you?" He flinched as his mothers voice slithered along the walls, and he took a few hesitant steps forward until he reached the living room. 

His mother lounged in the dark, her pale face cast in the blue light of the television. Eddie swallowed. "Mama," he breathed, and fisted his shorts at his sides. He decided to blurt it out. "I'm going to college." 

His mother chuckled. "Of course, dear. We've talked about this. The Derry Community College, where you can go there during the day and come back here in between your classes." 

Eddie shook his head. "No, mama. I'm not staying in Derry. Or Maine." He glanced at the portrait of his father above the fireplace. "I was accepted by New York. I've decided to go there." 

Both of them were surprised at his words. Eddie didn't know when he made up his mind, but he had. His mother went dead silent, before she burst into tears. "This isn't funny, Eddie." Her chair creaked as she pushed herself out of it, her face crumpled. Eddie bit his tongue, a flare of anger ignited inside of him. 

"I'm not fucking joking." 

Eddie's mother approached him, and he forced himself to tilt his chin up instead of shrinking back like he was so used to. His mother reached around him, and flicked on the light. She gasped loudly, her hands flying to her face when she stared at him, her skin paling even further. She stuttered out his name, before reaching towards him. "Who did this to you?"

Eddie frowned, and rose a hand to his neck where she was staring. "What are you talking about?" 

But the memory hit him as soon as he finished his question. 

Richie's teeth still pressed into his skin, a phantom that would follow him around forever. His skin was sore where he pressed his fingers into it, and he knew a deep red splotch stood out against his tan skin. He let his hands fall to his sides, unprepared for this conversation. 

His mother's teary eyes turned from despair to anger with every tear that slid down her cheeks. "That Tozier boy ruined you, didn't he?" Her voice hitched, barely a whisper. Eddie clenched his jaw. Eddie didn't bother to deny it. 

"This conversation isn't about him," he spat, retreating back into the hallway. He gestured to himself. "This is about me, and my life. I don't have a future here, so I'm living. I just wanted to let you know." 

"Did he force you into it? I should've never let you become friends with him, I knew he would corrupt you." 

"For fuck's sake!" Eddie cried, throwing his hands in the air. He pinched the bridge of his nose, before conceding. "Actually, yes. The 'Tozier boy' did this. His name is Richie, in case you fucking forgot." 

Eddie was so mad, the room was vibrating. He narrowed his eyes to keep himself calm. "And you know what? He's left more hickey's than just this one. We've done way more than just kiss. Sometimes, if he's really sweet to me, I'll sneak out of my room and into his. I'll get on my knees, and--" 

A sharp pain swept across his cheek. His hand flew up to soothe the needles of heat that pricked his skin, eyes wide as he stared up at his mother. She seethed across from him, her shoulders rising and falling as her voice came out broken and punched. She pointed a finger in his shocked face. "I will not have my son become a dirty homosexual, you hear me? I'd rather have no son at all." 

Her words rang in Eddie's ear. His eyes brimmed with tears, though he swore to himself years ago to never cry again over this dumb hag. But it was his mother, the woman who was supposed to care for him no matter what. Not break him into a hundred thousand unfixable pieces. His breath stuttered as he sucked it in, his hands falling back to his sides. 

The noise of the television drifted over the rift between them. Without a word, Eddie spun on his heel, and began to climb the stairs. He moved at a slow, steady pace. He brushed off his mother's hands when they reached for him. She increased her volume each time she repeated his name, but Eddie didn't listen. 

He ducked into his bedroom, locked the door, and flicked on the light. He yanked his closet open, and dragged his suitcase into the middle of his room. He folded his pajamas, and set them carefully inside. Then his normal clothes. He grabbed his toothbrush, toothpaste, and shampoo from his bathroom. He lifted his mattress, where he hid the money he made from working at the diner for two years. He had a few thousand, at least. Enough to get him to New York. He'd figure something out when he got there, he just couldn't live under this roof anymore. 

He zipped up his suitcase, and his eyes caught on his stack of comic books on the desk. Or rather, Richie's comics that he always "forgot" when he came over. Pictures of Eddie lying in Richie's arms, bitching about how slow he was reading flashed through his mind. Richie was what made Eddie's tears fall. 

He dug his diary out, and moved to tear out an empty page. Richie deserved some kind of note, a semblance of closure. But Eddie had nothing to say, other than 'I love you,' so he didn't write anything at all. Instead, he just tucked it back into it's hiding place, where he knew Richie would find it. 

His mother waited for him in the hallway. "Don't fucking touch me," Eddie hissed as her fingers brushed his arms. 

"Don't go, Eddie bear, please. I can get you the help you need, I can fix you! You just need some guidance, nothing the Pastor can't give you. Please, Eddie. You can't leave. I won't let you." 

Eddie swiped his mother's car keys off the counter of the kitchen, the metal cold where it cut into his palm. He bounded down the garage steps, the garage door screeched as he pulled it up. His mother babbled about all the help she could give him, and his stomach churned. If he heard one more word out of her mouth, he'd vomit. He tossed his suitcase into the trunk, then pulled the driver's door open. He hesitated before ducking inside. 

"You're the one that needs heavenly guidance, Sonia. You're the sick one. You always have been." And then he stooped into the car, twisted the keys in the ignition, and backed out of his driveway, leaving his stunned mother in a dark garage he would never see again. 

He passed Richie's street as he clawed his way towards his escape out of Derry. He could see Richie's silhouette pacing back and forth in the dim light. He let out a strangled breath, his gut wrenching. Hot tears slid down his cheeks, but he didn't stop, or even slow down. He passed Bill's house next, then Stan's, then Ben's. All of their windows stood dark. Beverly's and Mike's houses weren't on this route out of town. He drove until he passed the rotting wooden sign that read, "You're Leaving Derry, come again soon!" 

But Eddie didn't go back any time soon. 

In fact, Eddie didn't return to Derry for twenty seven years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it!!!! It's finished!!!!  
> The response to this fic has really shocked me, so thank you for any comments, kudos, or bookmarks! I hope you enjoyed reading it, I really enjoyed writing it.   
> writeretire on tumblr, if you want to say hello!


End file.
